


Living in the Pages of an Ian Fleming Novel

by Linorien



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types, The Hour
Genre: F/M, Five years after after the series finale, Q is Freddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 50,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5330045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linorien/pseuds/Linorien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freddie Lyon had always wanted to be a spy, and now here he was as MI6's quartermaster. But keeping both his agents alive and his past identity secret while remaining sane is not the easiest thing. </p><p>With terrorist attacks, undercover missions, discreetly helping The Hour, and general Q branch shenanigans, let the fun never end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story could not have happened without some amazing other people who put up with lots.  
> [PharaonicWolf ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PharaonicWolf)who is the best at large scale edits and reality checking my stories.  
> [Castillon02](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Castillon02) who I have crowned the comma queen and is great at characterization.  
> [GunsAndMagic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GunsAndMagic) who I have known for a while IRL and is an amazing person to brainstorm with over skype.  
> They are all on AO3 and you should check out their writings/tell them they ought to be writing.

“You know how sometimes I can’t tell you how I know certain things?”

“Yes.”

“Those skills have led me to a job offer I don’t think I can turn down.”

“You’re leaving The Hour?”

“Yes. But I’ll be watching every week. And no matter what, even if I can’t tell you everything--”

“You don’t do that anyway.”

“I want you to know I am here for you, Moneypenny. And nothing can tear us apart. We are possible. No matter what.”

 

 

[ ](http://imgur.com/NSUK2MG)


	2. Ruler of the Internet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bond receives a mission.

Bond was sitting in his office, idly reading through the newspapers stacked on his desk that he had requested his secretary bring for him, when the phone rang. He lifted it to his ear.

“M wants to see you in his office,” Miss Moneypenny said.

“Tell him I’ll be right up,” Bond replied. He hung up the phone and straightened his suit as he stood. M’s office was only on the floor directly above him so he opted for the stairs at the end of the hallway rather than the lifts. This week had been a slow week anyways and the inactivity was nearly killing him. Even helping test out some new recruits wasn’t doing it. He hoped that M had a good mission for him. The news didn’t have much in the way of political scandals or world events, but their mission was usually to prevent things from becoming world news, so that wasn’t a good indicator.

He reached M’s office and Moneypenny waved him in, already on the phone with someone else. He passed through the double quilted doors and sat down in the leather chair in front of the large desk. M set down the papers he was leafing through and leaned forward.

“Have you done much reading about local parliamentary news lately Double-oh Seven?” he asked.

“I can’t say I have found it very interesting, sir. Just the usual people sleeping with animals and insulting other ministers while somehow managing not to offend so many countries as to overwork us.” M snorted at his synopsis. “Is there something in particular I ought to have noticed?”

“Not necessarily something you would have thought worthy of your attention, no.” He leaned back. “I hadn’t heard of it myself actually. There is to be an international energy conference in France next week and the Minister of Solar Energy has requested your services as a bodyguard.” Bond raised his eyebrows slowly. “I know. Apparently he is worried that someone may attack the conference. We haven’t heard anything worth paying attention to, but he claims that there are plots against the new forms of energy and he is worried that they may attack at this conference since all of the forerunners in renewable energy will be gathered in one place. As if the information and technology isn’t common enough to be spread in other ways.”

“And he has specifically requested my services?” the secret agent asked.

“Not you specifically, no,” M allowed. “He asked for someone who will do whatever it takes to defend the future of the country and I know that you are aching to get back in the field.”

Bond conceded the point. “It might not be as interesting as my usual fare, but I will admit that it will be better than watching the recruits fall on their backs as they fire the weapons Q branch gives them.”

“And in case the rumours of an attack do prove to be of sustenance, I have faith you will make the right choice and do what needs to be done.”

“Is that an approval for my disobeying of orders?” he asked with a small smirk.

“It is a concession that, on occasion, your instincts have led you better than all the data we have on a situation and we are all incredibly thankful that Q is a genius at adapting to your hare-brained plans.”

Double-oh Seven grinned. “I think we all know he has his own hare-brained plans in that head of his. When is the conference?”

“It begins on Thursday, ending on Sunday afternoon. I’ll forward you the details. The minister said he does not need to meet you until Thursday evening when he will take you out to dinner so that he can give you his itinerary for the conference and meet you face to face.”

“Could he not give me the details ahead of time?”

“The attendees do not receive their itineraries until they check into the hotel, I’m afraid.”

“Alright. Anything else before I check in downstairs?” Bond asked as he stood.

“No. There shouldn’t be anything unusual so your standard equipment from Q branch should suffice. I’ve let Q know already.”

“I’m sure he already has some special gadget picked out for me.”

***

“No, I do not have an exploding pen for you, Double-oh Seven,” Q scolded him as he handed over the small, thin box. “The pen is a recording device that uploads directly to Q branch. It has a directional option so you can have it record sounds from all directions, or, if you click the button so that it is in position to write, then the other end of the pen may be pointed in the direction you wish to hear.” Bond clicked the pen and pointed it at some of the others in Q branch. Q snatched it back and replaced it in the box.

“As I said, the recording goes directly to the branch but we can direct a stream into your earpiece as well if you would like. Standard gun and radio as well. We are also ready to field test these.” He walked over to a shelf and pulled down a clear box containing what appeared to be ordinary ties.

“Neckties which also function as tourniquets. Tie it around a wound and it responds to the presence of blood and tightens itself to staunch the flow. It will also absorb the blood and not let it seep through to the other side so it can be worn again. Although we do recommend washing it as soon as you are able.”

“No chance of accidental strangulation then, Q?” Bond asked with a grin as he picked one out and tied it around his neck.

“I would not have said it was ready for a field test if there was,” he replied sternly before letting a ghost of a smile creep onto his features. “But if you go off mission like in Algiers I will be personally seeing how fast I can remotely modify it.”

“The warning is much appreciated, Q.” The quartermaster merely rolled his eyes and reached back onto his desk to hand Bond a manila folder.

“In here are your train tickets and hotel information for the week. There is also background on the minister you are guarding and the standard pamphlet for the conference. The minister’s itinerary is also in there so you can read up on the talks you will be attending if you do not wish to be bored out of your mind.”

“I thought the itineraries weren't released yet?”

“M may run the SIS, but I run the internet. Nothing is safe from me. I’m sure you could’ve even found it if you knew where to look Mr. Bond.”

“No chance of changes?”

“Of course there is a chance that it may undergo last minute alterations, but we will update you if there are any.”

Bond nodded his thanks and departed to go do some research before ending the day at the shooting range as was his habit when in London. It was only Tuesday, but it was always best to be prepared. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my NaNoWriMo story. And for the first time in five years I WON!!! Which means two things.  
> 1\. You will have about 50,000 words of fantastic writing from yours truly.  
> 2\. I am also a fallible human and so if I miss any spelling mistakes I would love it if you let me know. The same goes for things that don't make any sense and you need clarification. Or bits that you thought were awesome. I thrive on positive reinforcement.
> 
> But mostly, I hope you enjoy this wild ride that I have been waiting all month to share with all of you.  
> ~Linorien


	3. Rumours Abroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet night for Q and Bel with a busy week on the horizon.

The flat was quiet when Q arrived home just after two. He keyed in the code while letting the hidden camera scan his face and unlock the door. He tried to be quiet but he stubbed his toe on the sofa as he entered the sitting area in the dark. A voice drifted out from the bedroom.

“If you were home more often you would know where the sofa was in the dark.”

“You would not notice if I got rid of it,” he retorted immediately now that he knew he didn’t have to be quiet. “You are hardly ever home either except to collapse on the bed and maybe zap a meal for dinner.” He walked back toward the front door and flicked on the light to glare at the horribly old sofa that he kicked every time he entered in the dark and then see Bel emerging from the hallway. She had a glass of whiskey in her hand and a long shirt on over her bare legs. Q smiled.

“Come join me?” she asked flirtatiously.

“Let me put away my things and grab a glass for myself,” he replied in the same tone.

Of course, nothing exciting happened that night. They both were exhausted and merely sat in the peaceful quiet for a while with only the ice in their glasses making any noise as they idly shifted. They talked about their day, what little Q could share of it, and Bel told him all the latest gossip at the BBC.

“Later this week there is some international energy conference we are thinking of covering,” she said. “The network is going to do a special on the world of the future and Hector has been assigned to go to Paris to cover the event. I thought we might do our own little special since he is already over there.” While she was talking Q had sat up and stared at her worryingly. “What?” she asked when she looked over at him.

“Don’t go.”

“Why not?”

“It could be dangerous,” he replied. “There have been some threats of attacks planned for that conference and I don’t want to see Hector on a list of deceased.”

“Is that all you have for me?” she asked when he doesn’t say anything further. “Where is the Freddie I fell in love with and frequently was exasperated with as he charged into danger to pursue a story?”

“He grew up and he realised how fragile life really is.” He ducked his head. “He realised that he is not infallible nor invincible.” She stroked his cheek.

“If that event proved anything to me, I think it proved that you are invincible,” she said gently. “We all thought you were going to be dead. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you had left me.”

“What would you have done?” he asked curiously, meeting her eyes again with the innocent look on his face that she could never resist.

“Oh you know, probably gotten so distraught I would have had sex with Hector on the news desk while cameras were rolling and then shot myself on live telly.” Q couldn’t help but giggle at the scenario.

“A performance to be remembered throughout the ages,” he joked. “Producer of acclaimed television news show “The Hour” decides to star in a porno. The headlines would read ‘The Coming of the Hour’, ‘A Crowning Achievement for The Hour’, ‘The Hour is Coming.’”

“’Loose Lips don’t just Sink Ships,’” she interrupted.

“’The News Show you can Wank to.’”

“’Moneypenny moves on from Bond.’”

“Only you call me that and I would never leave you.” The joking tone left the room. “I know I cannot convince you to stay away from the conference, but promise me you will tell the team to be extra careful?”

“Of course. Anything for you.” She pecked him on the cheek.

“I’ll try to let you know if I find out anything more with solid proof I can give you.”

“Don’t you worry. I have a team of news agents working to sniff out any sign of a story. You just focus on your job and I’ll focus on mine.” He wished he could tell her that he also had his own staff of agents that were looking for the same intel, if in a less legal way. But as part of the standard secrecy agreement he could only say so much. He nodded and placed his glass on the side table.

“I think it is time for both of us to sleep. I have to be back in the office at eight tomorrow.”

“Sleep sounds good indeed.” Q checked that his alarm was set, took off his glasses, and promptly fell into a deep oblivion.

***

Freddie was gone already in the morning when she woke up, but there was a still warm tea kettle on the counter with a little note for her.

_ My dear Moneypenny. I thought I’d let you sleep; you look so peaceful when you sleep. Today looks like a day where I might be home earlier. Please pass on the warning of caution to Hector and the rest of the team going to Paris. With much love, Your James. _

She grinned as she poured out the tea and grabbed the newspaper lying on the kitchen table and flicked through the latest news. There was the usual gossip about the debutantes getting married and throwing large parties with tons of celebrities in attendance. She skipped over the sports news entirely and looked at the international section. There was a brief article mentioning the energy conference, but nothing that indicated unrest in the public over the changes that were to be announced.

She clicked on the radio to listen to the morning talk show as she made herself a simple breakfast of eggs and toast. She had just gotten out the eggs when her phone rang. She turned off the hob and walked back to the bedroom to grab it off the table.

“Hello?”

“How soon can you make it into the office?”

“In about fifteen minutes. What’s the matter, Randall?”

“News on the energy conference from an anonymous source that needs follow up.”

"I'll be right in then." She hung up the phone and quickly changed into her work clothes. Her tablet was thrown in her bag, the eggs back in the fridge, and with a piece of toast in hand she was out the door.

Randall met her in the office lobby and handed her a printout of an email.

"It's from the same email address as before," Randall said unhappily. She frowned at him as they stepped into the elevator.

"I know you don't trust the source, but they've never led us wrong before. I will ask Lix to talk to her sources and see if she can find anything to corroborate what they have to say.” She finished scanning the email. “I must say this is not the first I’ve heard. Someone mentioned rumours of the same sort to me last night, but they had only rumours, no proof.”

“Well we can look into it, but we also do need to still work on this week’s show as well as preparation for the trip.”

“Yes, we have the story about the shootings in the school in America as well as the release of a new rating system for violence in video games and possible ties between the two of them,” Bel said as she walked over to her whiteboard on the wall. They might be in the digital age, but some things are easier to organise when written out on the wall. “We talked to the professor at University of Central London who has agreed to come and talk about the psychological effects of simulated violence on children and what else can be learned from simulations. We also have the news of the new art installation in the Tate Modern and the protests that have been happening outside. Eldridge has been working on cutting together footage of that with the interview Simon did with the artist a few weeks ago.”

“I will leave you to your preparations then.” Randall left the room and Bel called for Sissy to find Hector and send him in. She would need to let him know of the additional danger that he may experience in Paris. She already could hear him protesting and proudly reminding her that he was an officer in the war and received three medals of honour. But they would quickly just end up in one of their usual bickering arguments. Ah well. She would feel better knowing that she had warned him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last I am happy with the story and ready to post.   
> Look for updates every Friday.


	4. Attracted to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Q channels his inner Adam Savage and Bond is let in on a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been so excited to share this next chapter with you. I do hope you enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments.

As Q had predicted, Wednesday was a shorter day. There were some inter departmental meetings he begrudgingly attended, but he was able to walk away feeling good and proud of the work his branch had done. He was in a good mood when he got home and Bel was there to meet him. To celebrate the rare occasion, they had dinner out at a local restaurant and then were able to relax on the sofa together. Bel fell asleep against Q while he read poetry to her.

It was Thursday that was the busier day. Bond was leaving as well as a couple other agents who were being sent to gather intel on some suspicious start-up businesses across the globe that they suspected could be cover-ups. The usual jewellery shops and construction companies. Each agent needed equipment and earpieces and one group would require special monitoring as it was a pair of agents, one just finishing up training.

Other Q branch personnel handled the distribution of equipment and the last minute instructions to the agents while Q tinkered in the lab with a new experiment. Nothing applicable yet, but he had read an article on using sound waves to make tractor beams and the nerd in him could not resist giving it a go.

He was internally rocking out to the score from the original “Star Trek” series when he was interrupted. R at least knew the code to call out to pause his music and he whirled around toward the door when the sound in his ear cut off.

She stood in the doorway with an eyebrow raised but a smile on her face. “Are you working on the tractor beam?”

“I nearly got it,” he responded with a grin as he gestured for her to walk closer. “It is really quite genius and fairly easy to manufacture. The only issue is scaling it up. I have been able to levitate a couple particles and by adjusting the boundary conditions I can move it around, but there is a limited range and unfortunately it does only work on pea-sized objects. So unless our agents need to fling some peas across the table, I don’t think it will be useful yet. Sadly it will probably be shelved after today.”

“Just leave the designs on the server,” R said as she straightened. “Maybe some of our audio engineers will be able to build on what you have. At any rate, we could possibly modify the design to create a soundless barrier for information exchanges. Or a vacuum of sound to muffle the explosions and gunshots our agents are so fond of making.”

Q’s eyes lit up at that. He wheeled his stool over to the computer on the table behind him and began typing. “Excellent ideas. I’ve added them to the document. Does Joel have much on his plate at the moment?” R thought for a minute and then shook her head. “He would be interested in this. I’ll pass it on to him. But what was it you came in here to tell me?”

“Ah, right. Bond wanted to see you before he left.”

“Did he say why?” Brows furrowed in confusion, Q saved the file and turned off the external power supply he had hooked up and the pea fell to the table.

“I think he just wanted to ask you about some extra equipment.”

 

 

Sure enough, Bond was waiting for him in his office, admiring the gun he had laid out on the centre table. “Ah Double-oh Seven,” he greeted as he gently but firmly took the gun from the agent’s hands and replaced it in its stand. “R tells me you had some questions about last minute equipment?”

“Yes, I was wondering how your branch was progressing on the bulletproof shirts. It might make Mr. Addington feel safer if he was wearing one and I was required to leave for any reason.”

“Let me look.” Q sat down at his computer and let it scan his fingerprints and retina to wake back up. A quick search through the ongoing project database revealed the answer. “It is not field ready to my standards, however, since there is no adverse side effects to wearing the shirt, I would gladly send one with you to undergo a field test. Just do inform Mr. Addington that it will not stop bullets completely and he should not act as if he is invincible. He has you to do that for him.”

“Are you saying I’m invincible?”

“I’m saying you are reckless and irresponsible at times and often act like nothing can hurt you. It is not a trait to be encouraged.” Bond opened his mouth to retort but there was a knock on Q’s door and one of the minions stuck his head inside. He opened his mouth to speak but paused when he saw 007. Q indicated for him to speak.

“There is an update on the intel about the energy conference, sir,” he said. “It has moved beyond rumour stage. The updated data is in your inbox.” Q clicked over and saw that the email was, in fact, there.

“Thank you Eric. Can you please grab a white bulletproof shirt for Mr. Bond? They are going to be field tested this weekend.”

“Wait,” Bond said before the man could leave. “Are there any other colours available?”

“Dark blue, light blue, maroon, and black.” He looked back at Eric. “Was there another one too?”

“There’s a green and a deep purple as well, sir.”

“I’ll take the white, the black, and the maroon then.”

“Yes sir.” He hurried out of the office and went to find the requested shirts. Q sat reading his email while Bond waited in the visitor’s chair. He watched Q’s eyebrows furrow and his lips pressed tight together and knew that it was not pleasant news. Not that there usually was in their field. The Quartermaster sighed and closed his eyes as he ran his hands through his hair. Then with a shake of his head he straightened back up and began typing.

“Unfortunately the rumours of a threat against the conference have been confirmed as a conspiracy.” He looked at Bond with a half-hearted smile. “I guess we are lucky M assigned you to this bodyguard mission. We haven’t yet been able to determine who is making the threats, but it seems like there is a plan in place to set off a bomb during the conference. An attempt to kill the attendees, or destroy the prototypes, we aren’t sure.”

“Any indication when?” the agent asked.

“No. Not yet. The level of activity suggests not tonight.”

“That makes sense. If it is an international conference, they cannot be sure that all attendees will arrive until tomorrow.”

“Correct.” Q seemed to think about something for a minute. He arrived at a decision. “I may have a favour to ask of you.”

“Off the books?” The agent was curious. Typically, unless asked to by an agent he trusted, the Quartermaster was one to stick to the rule book. He stretched it and did things his own way, sure. But whatever this was seemed to give him pause.

“Yes. You can think of it as a side mission. I need you--” he cut off as a knock sounded and Eric walked back in with the three requested shirts on hangers.

“Here are the shirts, sir.” Bond stood up and took them off the engineer and inspected them.

“Any special washing instructions?” he joked.

“Wash them as you would any of your own shirts, sir,” he replied. “These have been washed a couple times so there shouldn’t be any bleed from the dye anymore.”

“Thank you, Eric,” Q dismissed him. When the door was closed, Bond turned back to Q to hear about this side mission. “Completely off the record there are some people I care about that will reporting on the conference.”

“So you do have a life outside the basement!” The agent grinned. Q’s deadpan glare let him know that this was not the appropriate time. He typed on his computer and then spun it around to show Bond the images on the screen.

“This is Hector and the other is Isaac,” he explained. “Those are the only two I know for sure will be there, but anyone else with them should also be treated the same. Please keep an eye out for them. And if they are about to do something reckless and put themselves in danger, scare them straight. I would not like them harmed.”

“Can’t you just tell them not to go?”

“They are nearly as stubborn as you, Double-oh Seven. I can hardly tell you what to do despite the fact that I outrank you.”

“And they don’t know that you are SIS,” Bond completed.

“Correct. They don’t even know I’m alive. They believe I died five years ago.” They sat in silence for a moment. Bond felt sorry for him. He didn’t know how it felt to still have people alive who you couldn’t communicate with, but he had lost enough people in his life to know that it wasn’t easy on either side of the deal.

“I will keep an eye out for them. They won’t find out you are alive from me.” Q caught and held his eyes for a second before nodding solemnly.

“Thank you.”


	5. New Intel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bond get tech envy.

Bond was able to enjoy a peaceful train ride over to Paris and got settled in his hotel room before he was to meet with his charge for dinner. He double checked that there were no bugs in the room and tested the com link to Q branch as was standard. There had not been any new news since he left. A quick shower refreshed him and then he dressed in his second best suit for dinner.

Although he knew that there was a chance that Q was watching anyways, this wasn’t a high risk mission so he left his earpiece and gun in the safe in the room. If they did get into trouble, he could rely on himself for a weapon. He didn’t spend so much time in the MI6 training areas for nothing.

He announced himself to the hostess in perfect French and she led him to Mr. Addington’s table. The minister stood up and shook hands with the agent.

“Commander Bond, I presume,” he said in a firm tone that indicated he saw no reason for him to be wrong. He was a larger man but he had not yet descended into the state of unfitness that many older ministers and lords had.

“You presume correctly,” Bond replied.

“Shall we eat? I took the liberty of ordering us each a scotch, though if you would like something else be my guest.” He raised an arm and snapped his fingers for a waiter. Bond quickly scanned the menu.

“Good evening, sirs,” the waitress said. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have the stuffed chicken breast with a side of roasted mushrooms.”

“The steak for myself,” Bond said. “Rare, with plenty of sauce. Hold the carrots.”

“Anything else? No, then I will return with your dinner.”

The two men talked over dinner and drinks afterwards. Although it was Mr. Addington that did most of the talking. He told Bond of his two children and his wife, who lived in a small town near Paris but were unable to join him, and he told him of his love for new inventions. He took particular joy in showing off his solar powered wristwatch with a built in torch. Bond mostly grunted in appropriate places or added an “interesting” in there to keep the man talking about himself. It was only once they parted ways and he returned to his room that he grabbed the com link and asked Q why he couldn’t have a torch in his watch.

“For many reasons, Double-oh Seven,” Q said crisply. “Firstly, you would never use it. There is a reason why electric torches are not in the standard kit for agents. Secondly, you would lose it. Furthermore, that watch of his is solar powered. I do not care how fascinating and useful it sounds, for the small amount of surface area of the solar cells, there is going to be hardly any battery life. Even the most efficient solar panels are horribly inefficient. You would be left with next to no light for a disappointing length of time.”

"You are just no fun, Q."

"Prove to me that you can return the equipment I give you in one piece and then we will discuss how fun I can be. Go to sleep, Bond."

***

Friday was not particularly thrilling for Bond. He had a Q branch intern in his ear since there was no immediate threat that they were aware of and as the branch head, Q was too busy to babysit him.

The intern at least was interesting and kept up good conversation. He learned a lot about the chemistry of different explosions and how to produce different colours. Q clearly assigned him well. He was thankful that he had done a little reading up on the latest energy technologies so that he was able to understand a little bit of what went on in the talks Mr. Addington attended.

Q, on the other hand, was very busy with mountains of paperwork that were due that day that he had fallen behind on while still trying to stay up to date of any new intel coming in about the conference. Bel had sent him an email letting him know who all was going to Paris and when they were leaving that afternoon. They wouldn’t arrive until late afternoon to start getting some canvassing shots and potentially interviewing some of the attendees about their new innovations and how they envision them being implemented. Plus some interviews with people protesting since that was always the most exciting.

There was nothing throughout the day that would indicate an attack on the conference but Q branch and Bond stayed alert. At the end of the day, Mr. Addington thanked Bond again for the bulletproof shirt, “I had nearly forgotten I was wearing it, it is so comfortable,” and offered to treat him to dinner again. Bond declined and took a walk to a local bar instead.

It was while he was enjoying a quiet drink at the bar that he received a text from Q that there was new information.

_ What do you have? _ he texted back.

_ The attack will definitely occur tomorrow. We still don’t know what time or in what fashion, but the activity has picked up considerably. _

_ There is a demonstration of one of the new technologies tomorrow for all of the attendees after the dinner. _

_ That is our best guess for the time of the attack as well. Network chatter does not give us many hints on the type of attack but it looks to be something that involves multiple people in many different locations and at least some minor advance preparations. _

_ I’ll keep an eye out for suspicious activity tomorrow then and let Addington know that I may need to run off. _

_ Try not to give an indication that you know much though. I don’t want him suddenly thinking he can help and then get in your way. _

_ I’ll slip out discreetly then. _

_ I will leave Shara in your ear again for most of tomorrow. She said you enjoyed learning about the chemistry behind the explosions you seem to enjoy. She is hoping for more colourful ones next time. _

_ I’ll try to make sure I have lots of copper involved next time for her then. _

_ I’ll make a note to include it in your kit. If that is all? _

_ Nothing else to report from me except that your shirts were well received. I must make sure I get them all back before he decides to keep them for himself. _

_ I’m glad. Talk to you tomorrow, 007. _

_ Same to you, Q. _


	6. Light Up the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the next battle in the war against science goes off with a bang.

Hector and Isaac surveyed the conference map on their phones as they wandered around the hotel where the conference was being held in order to pick a good location to film an introduction segment while all the attendees were gathered at the early dinner and keynote talk. They had gathered a lot of footage yesterday and had already planned an angle to take. The dawning of a new age with a bright future. The writers would certainly be pleased at their potential for subtle, or not so subtle, puns.

The protesters would be viewed as the remnants of the past, stick in the muds who were afraid of change, and the scientists were the shining stars in the future. Certainly the interviews they had previously filmed reflected those two attitudes nicely. It could also tie into a small history segment on the spread of electricity across England with some old footage from the archives.

They found a quiet place outside near where the demonstration would take place and had a nice shot of the conference banner behind Hector and began recording some options for intro segments.

“This is Hector Madden reporting for The Hour at the International Energy Conference in Paris....”

* * *

 

Meanwhile, Commander James Bond, MI6 secret agent and cold-hearted assassin, was standing against the back wall of the dining hall and debating how badly he wanted to steal a piece of strawberry cake. He was supposed to be fulfilling his duty as a bodyguard but the cake looked delicious and he hadn’t eaten in awhile. It wouldn’t take him that long to eat the cake. He knew he could be discrete about it. The staff wouldn’t even know it was missing. They surely had extras. He began to edge his way slowly towards the kitchen door.

“Bond?” Q’s voice came online in his ear.

“Q,” he acknowledged while inching nearer to the door.

“It’s a bomb.” The agent stilled. “It is designed to detonate during the demonstration of the new invention to make it look like a technological failure and make governments doubt the innovation. It’s merely a bonus that it might harm those in the vicinity and take out any scientists who might be able to prove that it was a bomb.”

“I’m on it.”

“Also keep an eye out for reporters or other bystanders acting suspicious. It seems they want to make sure the disaster goes viral.” Bond acknowledged as he left the dining room and broke into a light jog.

“Do you have any specifics on where the bomb might be located or what type?”

“Working on it now. Nothing unusual on any radio frequencies and nothing immediately suspicious on any type of network. I would guess it would be remotely triggered since it will be most effective as they try to turn it on or immediately afterward.”

“And it should be near the equipment?”

“Again, we are not positive, but it makes the most sense to have the blast radius centred on the device.” Bond quickened his pace a little as he got outside and then vaulted the low walls in his way.

“Do you have cameras, Q?” he asked, glancing around to see how many there were.

“Almost... yes. I have control over the local cctv. And let me see.” Bond could hear typing. “There you are. And I see the new device. Zefyre Energy. Certainly looks elegant,” he remarked offhand.

“Do stop admiring the technology from afar and help me figure out where the bomb may be,” Bond teased. “I do not have your gift for understanding all engineering with a single glance.”

“But you do have a phone which I designed for you that has an app on it that may help,” the Quartermaster grinned. “You do have your phone with you?”

“Yes. What am I looking for?” he asked.

“I’ve got it.” The screen started changing by itself and Bond rolled his eyes at Q’s lack of faith in him. “I know you could probably figure it out but this is faster. Point the camera at the device like a scanner and if something lights up red that is almost certainly the bomb. We will scan for radiation first.” Bond did as he was told and walked slowly around the strange device.

There were wires and cords everywhere. He did not understand how Q could call this elegant. Maybe a later model he would understand, but this looked like a Frankenstein creature mixed with a primary school science fair project. There was a mix of pvc and metal piping and sharpie marks littered on the sides. Unfortunately not one of them said ‘bomb fits in here.’ There were garden hose knobs that Bond resisted turning and light filters that Q stopped him from touching as he reached out.

In Q branch, the screen of Bond’s phone was up on one of the large screens in the command central. One of the minions called out for him to stop and Q relayed the request. “What do you see?” Bond asked while Q motioned for the man to come up toward the front so that Bond could hear him.

“Get down lower to the ground but keep the camera focused on the same area,” the minion said slowly. “Something doesn’t look right there. I can’t say why but it doesn’t feel right.” The agent did as he was told and sure enough a slight tinge of red appeared on the screen. He moved the phone closer and it began more obvious.

“Good work, boffin,” he complimented.

“Instinct is a marvellous thing,” Q said sagely. “It can neither be explained nor ignored.”

“Agatha Christie!” someone called out after a couple seconds.

“Correct. Five points!” Q called back. “Eric, trust your instincts and lead Bond through this.”

The Q branch worker took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and began directing the agent.

"Exit out of the app and go to the normal camera so I can see better what we are working with. Excellent."

He looked closely at the bomb before directing him to remove the case covering. From there, he worked with the agent to determine the type of bomb it was and how it might be triggered. Unlike the movies, there were no coloured wires besides the green which most likely meant ground. Bond had unwound the wires from the phone casing and was able to help by turning the phone into a multimeter. He only understood the very basics as he struggled to recall what he learned in second form electronics. But the actual technician knew far more than he ever did so he supposed it didn't make much of a difference.

"Bond, there is someone approaching from behind you," Q interrupted. "He's not one of the attendees."

"Copy that." He set down his phone so that the camera was looking up at the bomb and pretended to inspect the rest of the device. When the man approached from behind, the agent kindly pretended that he hadn't noticed.

"What are you doing?" The voice was gruff and demanding. Bond flinched as if he was surprised and turned, a startled expression on his face, to look at the man.

"Just double checking a few last minute things on the device. My boss is one of the scientists working on the project and he wanted it to be perfect. But you know how those scientist and engineer types can be; nothing is ever finished. And even when it's finished there are still improvements that could be made." Q huffed in his ear. "It's a wonder they get anything done."

"It's a wonder that I put up with you," Q muttered.

"So while he is at that fancy dinner us lab rats don't get to attend, I've been sent to recheck everything."

The other man narrowed his eyes but couldn’t seem to find any fault with Bond’s explanation. He nodded and told him to get on with his work before walking back off the way he came. As Q watched on his cameras he saw the man pick up his phone and begin talking with someone else.

“He’s one of them,” Bond said. “He should have asked for some kind of identification.”

“And he looks a bit furious on the phone right now. It’s a pity this is in a big city or else it would be a lot easier to latch onto his phone call. I’m trying, but he might not stay on the line long enough for me to get to it.” Q continued furiously typing while Eric continued to lead him through dismantling the bomb. A disappointed noise from Q was followed almost immediately by success from Eric and Bond.

“Bomb successfully disengaged and reassembled,” the agent reported in.

“It looked like it would have to be a strong enough signal that we may be able to trace it back when they try to detonate it, sir,” Eric added.

“Good work. Clear out of there. I wasn’t able to pick up on which phone signal was his, but he looked frustrated so they might try something else.”

* * *

 

Within the hour, the courtyard area was filled up with the conference attendees and the reporters from nearly every country represented. Bond had taken a look around and he thought he could identify the people Q wanted him to look out for. It was a small group of people gathered around a camera on an older looking tripod with a corded microphone. They appeared to be one of the few reporter groups who were doing things independently and were not backed by a huge network. He wondered how well known their show was. Q hadn’t really said.

There was, of course, all manner of other important people. There were the many scientists who had come to demonstrate various inventions, to learn about other inventions, or even just to talk about the research they were conducting. There was a large poster session scheduled for the next day after lunch, but thankfully Bond would be on the train heading home by then. If all went according to plan that is. Which things often didn’t where he was involved.

Then there were the dignitaries. Not as many of these but there were a few who had come to represent their countries. Especially the countries where the new energy generating devices would be implemented countrywide. He recognised the leader of the Czech Republic but not any others by sight. They did tend to change quite often.

And of course the politicians were in abundance. There to represent their country if a dignitary did not deem it important enough to come in person, these were the people that the conference was really aimed at. The people in power who controlled the flow of money. It was a well-known fact that most inventors and researchers were always in need of money and time. Only one of these was possible to gain extra of. And so they petitioned away at events like these. Selling their new ideas with how it would revolutionize a country. How it would bring profits to the government and how it would increase the satisfaction of the people.

And people who are important want to feel important, so Bond was not alone in being a bodyguard. They were easy to pick out: they wore nice suits and most had a visible radio earpiece in their ears. A bulge from a gun was easily visible to the eye of a secret service agent and he felt a little smug, knowing that his was not visible. He could also easily pick out the poorly trained bodyguards who felt the need to touch their fingers to their ears to listen to the voice in their ears. It was too obvious and he had seen agents killed for such a rookie mistake.

As they found places to sit, Bond suggested to Mr. Addington that he might want to sit nearer to the reporters. It would give him an opportunity to be caught on camera which could only improve his public figure and give him greater visibility. He heartily agreed with Bond’s reasoning and he could feel Q’s approval behind his discreet plan through the soft noises he made. Nothing that would be noteworthy if anyone listened to the recording of the mission after the fact, but he knew what it meant. As everyone took their seats, Bond remained standing in the rear, not obstructing anyone’s view while also keeping everyone within his field of view. It would also give him the quickest start if he needed to run anywhere.

* * *

 

Isaac surveyed the arrangement of seats and looked upward to check the angle of the sun before deciding on a perfect location from which to record the demonstration. He directed Hector to speak while the crowd came in behind him.

"We are about to witness a historic unveiling of the future," he began. "Just as the windmill gave way to coal and steam, electricity, the life blood of London and countless other cities around the world, will soon be powered by the stars." Unbeknownst to him, Bond was now listening in on his speech. "The very mechanics that power our sun exist inside this futuristic looking device. And what a bright future it is. Now, none of us at The Hour are scientists so we can’t hope to understand, but we have been told that this demonstration will show how much more powerful this new technology is. It looks like the demonstration is about to begin so I will step out of the way.”

Hector signed off with his signature smile and Isaac brought the camera closer to the spectacle. The ropes around the main device had been taken down and additional things had been brought out. There was an exercise bike with wires coming from it. These wires were connected to a large board filled with light bulbs. The board was also hooked up to the new device. They were switching over just in time to watch the main event as the lead scientist on the project had just put on his wireless microphone and walked to the centre of the crowd.

"Can you all hear me?" he asked in a magnified voice. "Is the index of refraction satisfactory?" There were a few chuckles from the scientists. "Good, then we can get started. As you all are aware, the focal point of this amazing conference is to unveil the breakthrough that my colleagues and I have at last finalised. Many years of hard work have gone into this research. The sweat and blood of numerous unpaid interns cannot be forgotten. But enough talking. It is time for the fun." He gestured to the array of light bulbs behind him.

"All of these bulbs are standard 60 watt light bulbs such as you would have in your house. When first invented, they would only be illuminated this much."

Another researcher off to the side flicked a large switch labelled Tesla. "It certainly is unimpressive. Only the people in the front few rows can probably see the difference. Even less impressive when you see that an intern on an exercise bike can generate more power." Sure enough, once the man began pedalling, a second light flickered on and Hector was able to see the difference.

Even the best solar panels we have, left out to charge up in the French sun since Thursday, can only do so much."

Another switch was flicked to the on position and now ten light bulbs slowly began giving off light. "Nuclear fusion can illuminate thirty eight of these but we are not hooked up to a reactor. With this new device we can do so much more. It is truly a marvel of modern engineering, if I do say so myself. I won’t bore you with details of how it works so without further ado, let’s light up the world.”

As they all watched the device with anticipation, a low whir started up when they pressed the button on the device. Various indicators all over the device switched from red to green and the hum became more intense. Once there no more red lights, the hum abruptly ceased and the light bulbs on the board behind began flaring into brightness. The light was far more intense than any of the others had been before; for an extra bit of showmanship flare, the surrounding street lamps in the courtyard had apparently also been hooked up to the device and simultaneously grew in brightness. Soon it was as if there was a great spotlight focused on the courtyard and it was becoming difficult to see.

“Okay, you can shut it down now, Chris,” the head scientist said above the cheering crowd. Only, the brightness kept on growing. “Chris? I said you can turn it off.”

“I shut it off. Something else is pushing the power through.” Sure enough, amid the still growing intensity of other lights, you could still make out the red indicators of the device showing that it was powered off. The lightbulbs began to flash and spark in the lamp posts. It was now reaching the point at which shutting your eyes did not help and people were shielding their eyes. Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass split the air. The bulbs began to burst apart, sending glass flying everywhere, and panic descended. People were shielding their faces with their arms and running for cover. It was a frantic stampede to try to get out of the circle of exploding lights. And as if this wasn’t enough, other explosions were added to the mix. Hector recognized the sound of hand grenades from his days in the war and knew they had to leave, no matter how interesting the story may have just become.

Isaac was suddenly very glad that Bel had warned him about possible trouble and he had packed lightly. The camera and tripod were easily picked up and carried across his chest like the precious cargo it was. They had ducked around the corner of a nearby building into safety. He leaned heavily against the wall, breathing hard and trying to blink brightness out of their eyes so that they could see again. Their vision was not quite back yet when somebody grabbed Hector from behind and pressed the knife against his throat. He suddenly couldn’t remember what training had taught him to do in a situation such as this.

“You’re a reporter, right?” asked the gruff voice holding the knife. Based on the feel of the body he was pressed against, Hector guessed that his captor was a middle-aged man, but even if he could’ve seen behind him, the man had strapped a Halloween mask over his face. “Answer me!” the man barked. Hector swallowed nervously, but replied in the positive. “I have something special I want you to report about this conference. You are to report that it was an utter failure. The new technology of the future will doom us into the dark ages and destroy the world as we know it. Nothing can be gained by trusting this science. Is that quite clear?”

“We report unbiased news,” Hector said firmly. “This means presenting both sides of the story and telling only the facts.”

“Silence!” The man squeezed harder and the knife pressed further into Hector’s neck, causing a small trickle of blood to ooze down. He heard Isaac gasp, but he, too, was restrained by another thug. “That was not what I said. Report only that this was a failure and research must not be allowed to continue.”

“And what should happen if we do not comply?” It was becoming harder for Hector to remain composed.

“Why then, you and your friends will be killed.” There was harsh laughter from the men holding the camera crew. “I think the Jewish one can go first. I’ve heard tell that they are screamers and I’d like to test that out myself.”

“I don’t think that will be happening,” a new voice spoke from behind Hector. The man holding Hector, and thus Hector himself, spun around to face this new potential threat. Hector immediately could tell he had been in the service from the confident way he held himself.

“And who do you think you are?”

“Someone who does believe in the future that science will create.” Hector could also see that the man was holding a gun, pointed steadily just to the right of his own head. “Even if I don’t always understand it,” he said with a thin smile. The man holding Hector drew a deep breath, undoubtedly to spew some uninformed opinion, but the newest man pulled the trigger before that could happen.

For Hector, the sound of the gunshot brought his memories of the service to the fore. He remembered dodging behind the wall of a little cafe to avoid the grenade that flew past. The sound of shouting echoed in his mind and he could have sworn he could hear the crackle of the radio attached to his vest calling for him to report in. He was jolted back to the present with the crack of a gunshot. He remained frozen as the bullet pierced the shoulder of the man holding him. He didn’t even have the chance to turn his head when some flecks of blood splattered his cheek. As soon as the man loosened his grip, Hector was able to twist out of the way and shove his captor away. He took a few more steps to move further from his captor and from his memories. By the time he looked back up, a few more taps on the gun had incapacitated the other men holding the camera crew. The first man was still howling in pain until the shooter smacked the back of his head with the butt of his gun and knocked him unconscious. Without another word the man turned to leave.

“Wait,” Hector called, pushing his memories to the back of his mind and forcing himself to remember that despite his past, he had soldiered on to become a journalist. And as a journalist, he had a job to do. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but why did you save us?”

The man paused without looking back. “Let’s call it a favour for a mutual friend.”

“Can I ask your name?” Now the man turned around with a smile.

“The name’s Bond, James Bond.”


	7. Inelastic Collisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of investigations concerning Paris and Q.

“Thank you, Bond,” Q said in his ear once he walked away.

“Your innovative science has saved my life too many times to let that statement go unchallenged,” Bond joked, though he knew what Q was really thanking him for. 

“I’ve alerted the local authorities to the location of the attackers. Hopefully the reporters will get out of there and move somewhere safer.”

“I’m confident they will. The taller man seemed to be holding up well under the stress. He will lead them away.”

“Yes. Now there was another man who looked to be heading back toward the hotel. It looks like he may still have a grenade to throw.”

“I’m on it,” Bond affirmed as he quicked his pace. 

“Q, sir?” Shara spoke up from the small group looking over the cctv footage from when all hell broke loose. “It looks like it was magnesium. In the lamp post lights. Most likely triggered by the above average heat output from the lights.”

“Find out when they got there and see if you can run facial recognition,” he ordered. Q and his branch continued monitoring the radios of the local police and their investigation. One unlucky soul was in charge of contacting Mr. Addington and directing him to retreat to a local bar to stay out of the danger zone and not worry about his bodyguard’s absence. Thankfully, so far, he seemed relatively calm about being left on his own and was understanding of Bond needing to deal with the terrorist attack. He kept telling his contact that he knew that this was going to happen. The minion looked exasperated, but was glad that he could at least make a note that the bulletproof shirt stopped shards of glass.

Within the hour, Bond had tracked one of the conspirators back to a rundown flat in the slums of the city. He crept up the stairs, hoping to avoid startling the man he was following into running. He opened the door slowly; it was unlocked. He heard noises of panicked distress and ran toward the noise. Unfortunately he was too late.

“Suicide pill,” Bond reported. “Was probably told it was drugs of some kind. He didn’t seem prepared for the end.”

“Pity. Can’t question him then,” Q commented. “Anything else around?”

“Looking now." The agent left the body and started exploring the rest of the small living space. It had been obviously cleared of anything incriminating. But nothing short of burning it to the ground and tossing the ashes in the Thames could completely erase all evidence from an agent of her majesty's secret service. 

There were no computers or phones lying around. Bond checked the man’s pockets and found nothing there either. He must have been instructed to get rid of the phone earlier. There were some papers scattered around that had idle doodles and some math equations that looked like trying to divide up a bill between people who didn’t want to be working together. Bond picked up the pen that was lying on the table and slid it into his pocket. Next to the desk there was a paper shredder full of shredded documents. 

“How useful are shredded papers, Q?” 

“How are they shredded?”

He lifted out a few shreds. “Long strips down the long edge of the paper.”

“We can work with those. I think analytics needs something new to do.”

“Is there someone nearby who can help collect this stuff?” the agent asked. He didn’t really fancy toting around a rubbish bin.

“I can get the local police over there. Undoubtedly they would be interested in investigating as well and their forensics can perhaps pick up some additional clues. I’ll make sure they know that you will be taking the shreddings back. They certainly don’t have the skills to do anything other than sweep it right into the bins.” Q’s tone indicated exactly what he thought of the French police’s capabilities. “I can let you know when they are on their way." He turned to ask one of his branch to communicate with the police, but before he could ask, someone shouted out that they were on it. Q smiled. He was glad that they knew him so well. Although he had only been their quartermaster for a little over two years, he was undeniably proud of how well they worked as a team. If nothing else it was a testament to how rarely they all went home. 

Soon, the French police arrived and Bond was able to pour the shreddings into a bag that would be easier to transport. In the meantime the agent had found a few other clues to how long they had been staying in this location and how many people were there. But anything else was going to have to come from the forensics report. So with the excitement of the afternoon well and truly over, Bond went to go collect Mr. Addington from the bar he was still at, and relieve the Q branch contact from his tipsy ramblings. 

* * *

 

In the days that followed, forensics made good progress with the DNA samples they found and were able to get a match in their system. There were four of the criminals and they had previously been flagged as juvenile delinquents. It had only been robbing and vandalism before, but this was concrete proof for a large enough crime to get the remaining boys put away from some time. 

The pen Bond had taken from the table had the logo of an American shipping company on it so they assumed that they were somehow connected. The company was Hermes Express, a nice reference to Greek mythology that Q appreciated. They didn’t have enough pieces of evidence yet to pursue the company directly so instead they put it on the back burner while the shredded papers were put back together and the communications team devised some background programs to watch for suspicious activity. 

In the meantime, Q was able to work on other projects and with other agents. It surprised him at first, but Bond was surprisingly helpful the occasional times he dropped by Q branch and helped to lead a mission. As they had agreed once in the National Gallery, there is only so far the computers can go before human experience is necessary. 

For Bond, this meant more time trying to figure out this enigma of a quartermaster. He had done plenty of research online and looking through the paper records, but there wasn’t much. 

As he said, he was hired about five years ago and began working in Q branch, quickly rising up the ranks as others recognised his brilliance and he got an opportunity to stretch his wings. The files had redacted his name since his promotion to Q, but Bond could at least tell that it was not a short name. Seven letters in his last name at least. He didn’t see anything in the records about the people he’d seen in Paris, but they did list an emergency contact as a Miss Bel Rowley. Wife. His interest was caught and he had resolved to do more research on her. It would have to wait until he left the building though. Just as Bond would’ve done everything to keep anyone from getting to Vesper, he suspected that Q might have programs to keep track of who was looking into his files. And his files were the only thing that indicated he was married.

There was certainly no wedding ring. No mentions of children or even of having someone at home to return to. Only his cats. Bond had even followed him home once and it didn’t strike him as the sort of flat a couple would occupy. Sure there were some signs of a female occupant, but he had thought it temporary. Or a friend who might stop by every once in awhile. Moneypenny perhaps. They were on first name basis after all. Q always called her Eve. 

There was also his unique dress code. One could put it down to the colder temperature down in the labs, but Bond’s instincts told him there was something else there. Almost like he didn’t want to conform.

“James?” 009’s voice came in over the speaker system after a long period of silence and both agent and Quartermaster glanced upward at the screen with the tracker. 

“Yes,” Bond replied. “What is it, Christie?”

“You dealt with Quantum before. Does this seem like it could be them?” They could see through her camera lens: a large room with computer monitors everywhere and empty stools in  front of them. She ran her hand along one of the keyboards and nothing happened. “It’s dusty.”

“It doesn’t seem like their usual. They don’t typically have a headquarters that contains so many secrets. They traded more on the sly.” Bond frowned. “This seems like something new.”

“The smugglers didn’t seem to know about this place at least so it wasn’t something they were involved with.”

“Why do you say that?” Q asked. 

She turned all the way around so that they could see the briefcases in the corner. “Those don’t look touched. I would bet they contain cash or at least something that can be traded for cash.” She walked closer, her heels making no noise on the tile floor. “They are dusty as well, so we know no one has even looked to see what is inside.” She opened one up before Q could tell her to just scan it on her phone in case it was a bomb left behind. Thankfully it wasn’t. The briefcase held only diamonds.

“I wouldn’t have just left those there either,” Q muttered. “Before you leave, could you try turning on one of the computers and plugging in your phone? I may be able to download some information off of there.”

“Anything for you, my dear Q,” she said flirtatiously while Q rolled his eyes. “Anything for my favourite boffin who makes me awesome toys.”

“They are tools and inventions,” Q muttered, sounding like he had made this argument before. “Not toys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying the story thus far. I don't remember if I mentioned it before, but you can always find me on tumblr as SpiritofCamelot. I love talking about both of these fandoms so don't feel shy.


	8. Lime Grove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick check in with Bel and others at Lime Grove shortly after the Paris attack.

“What is the big story this week?” Randall asked Bel as she walked in the office Monday morning.

“It looks like we will finally have a slot free for Lix’s report on the horrid conditions of factory workers in other countries working for companies based at home in the United Kingdom.” Bel handed him a folder of papers. “Her man in Hong Kong has been collecting footage off his phone and sending it to us via the underground network. Lix thinks we should focus on the cruelty but I’d like to angle it to point out the injustice done in this country that we know about and still pretend like it isn’t happening.” She sat down behind her desk. “But we will see at the team meeting what everyone else thinks.”

Naturally, the team meeting once again was a mixing of prideful individuals with large egos who all wanted to prove that they had the leading story of the week. It was stressful, but Bel managed to push her plan through. The newbies hadn’t yet learned how to stay on her good side, but they had learned that while you can argue all you want, Bel Rowley always gets her way.

Naturally there would be some jokes about David Cameron’s pig scandal, but this would get overshadowed by the more important news of the luxury tax and the protests against changes within the NHS with regards to junior doctors.

It really was starting to seem like every other week there was another protest going on. But none of them were complaining; it made for good programming. 

There were a few bigger stories that some of her journalists were working on and she was hoping that one of them would finish so that they would have something more engaging to break. And after all, digging up the stories that no one else wanted to cover was basically their founding motto. It was something Freddie had taken to heart and Lix loved to encourage in him. 

Currently, the one she had her eyes on was a journalist who had been with them for three years, Alexander, who was working on digging up the real truth of the oil spill that had mostly been covered up by the government. It was off the coast of Mexico and initially the government had worked with the oil company to minimize the perceived extent of the spillage. This was ruined by both Americans and Mexicans who turned to social media with the pictures they had taken on their phones of the huge extent of the damage. The official story was that it was an accident and everything was cleaned up and fixed now, but it didn’t take much digging to reveal many flaws in the perfect veneer. 

Alexander had come into Bel’s office a couple times to let loose some steam and rant about how angry he was at this horrible accident and subsequent cover-up in which everyone tried to pretend slapping a plaster on solved everything. She responded by teasing good follow up questions out of him and steering him in the most productive direction. It looked to be a great story when they could finally break it. 

As Bel walked back to her office from the latest session of helping out the discouraged man, she stopped by Hector’s office. He was staring out the window, more still than usual. It was then that she realised she hadn’t spoken with him since his return from Paris at the beginning of the week.

“Hector?” She called gently with a polite knock on the doorframe. He whirled around, but relaxed when he saw who it was. 

“Good afternoon, Bel,” he greeted. “How are you?”

“Great, actually.” She walked further into the small office and leaned against the light blue walls. “I wanted to ask how you were. You have seemed a little distant since you got back from Paris. I know Isaac said you were attacked. Is everything good?”

Hector rubbed a hand over his face and sat down in his chair, gesturing for her to have a seat also. “It wasn’t bad, honestly. I just suddenly had flashbacks from the war. I haven’t had those in years. I guess it’s like they say: you never know what will trigger it.”

“Anything I can do?”

He shakes his head. “It just needs some time to fade. I haven’t been sleeping as well, but it’s already a lot better than it was the first night.” He smiles slightly. “I’m just glad the stranger came and saved us, saved me from having to do anything that would really give me sleeping troubles.”

“Isaac didn’t tell me that. Who saved you?” Bel could feel a tingle of suspicion creep into the back of her mind. 

“Like I said, some random stranger. Seemed English, so I don’t know what he was doing in France, but he was definitely military of some sort. No uniform, but you recognise the type.”

“You didn’t get his name?”

“Well he gave a name, but I doubt it’s his real name,” he laughed. “He probably doesn’t want any credit for saving us. He had to have known we were journalists after all.”

Bel furrowed her brows. “What makes you say it was a fake name?”

“He introduced himself as ‘Bond. James Bond.’ before walked away dramatically. I think he is a fan of the books.”

Bel laughed faintly and agreed while secretly wondering if Q had sent him on purpose to watch out for the team. As his way of saying that he was watching over her.


	9. The Next Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plane tickets and play tickets both make an appearance.

Bond was swimming laps when a Q branch worker came looking for him. He noticed by the painted toes in the water at the end of the lane. He paused in his stroke and idly treaded water, flicking the water out of his eyes. The woman sitting on the edge glanced up and down appreciatively.

“Q wants to see see you in his office.”

“How much of me does he want to see?” Bond grinned.

“He probably would rather you dry off and put clothes on,” she replied. “The rest of us wouldn’t mind if you showed up as you are. So long as you don’t drip on the electronics.” She paused for a moment. “Actually you had best at least dry off. You don’t want to be the unsuspecting victim of an electrical shock. Q has been experimenting with different tasers lately. And he has plenty of reasons to use them on you, sir.” She stood up and picked up her shoes. “Q expects you in two minutes.” With a whip of her ponytail, she turned on her heel and walked out.

Bond watched her leave before surging upwards and out of the water. As fun as it might be to see Q’s reaction to him walking in wearing only his bathers, he went to the locker room and changed back into his suit.

“Right on time, Double-oh Seven,” Q greeted as he walked into the basement lair. “I expect Tanya lied to you about the time. Let me give you an update on the energy conference mission.” He clicked a remote to turn on a monitor on a nearby wall. “The paper shreddings have been pieced together and we have found a few interesting things. We have a couple receipts for money transfers from an offshore account. We were able to trace it back to an employee at the same company that the pen was from, that Hermes transport. It seems that they were contacted through the internet on a forum for young people in France who were struggling to live on their own. Really it was more like a drug dealers forum, only online.”

“The good old days of dealing in the streets under the bridges are gone then. What a pity,” Bond said sarcastically.

“Quite. But they were brought in via that and anonymously instructed. Then they were paid through this foreign account in order to buy the supplies that they needed to create the bomb. They must have been in communication with someone knowledgeable in order to construct the bomb, but there are no records of that on here. Or anywhere else that we can find right now. We have traced the bank account to someone who works in the company, like I said, we just need to do a little digging. We can do some of that remotely, but based on what we find, we may need a physical person to look around.” Q paused and looked back at Bond. “Would I be correct in assuming that you would like to be a part of this?”

“Unless M has something else for me, yes. I do like to finish what I’ve started.”

“Excellent. I will check with him right away and organise the details.” Q turned back to his computer and began typing. “I will be sending some of my own staff with you so please do not get them involved in any of your usual antics. We prefer the relative safety of the basement for a good reason.”

“That reason being you are all cold-blooded vampires who will burn in the sunlight?”

Q narrowed his eyes at the agent. “First the nonexistent spots and now the pale complexion. Should I be concerned that you apparently spend time studying my skin?”

Bond only smiled before turning on his heel and walking back to the dock. Q waited until the doors closed behind the agent before he sighed and wearily rubbed at his eyes. He didn’t know how it felt to have a brother, but he imagined it would feel like this. The agent drove him up one wall and down the other, but the quartermaster was really too fond of him to force him to stop.

“One of these days,” he whispered. “One of these days I will figure out how to crack that unflappable facade.”

* * *

Two weeks later saw Bond back in the underground tech labyrinth to pick up equipment from Q. Another earpiece, standard gun and radio, and plane tickets. “You shouldn’t need him,” Q was saying, “but Felix knows you will be over there in case you get into a spot of trouble.” Bond nodded. He hoped he wouldn’t need his American friend’s help, but it might be nice to meet up for a drink one night. He hadn’t seen the other man in a while and neither of them were really the type of men who would correspond with any regularity.

“Follow me and meet the others who will go with you.” Bond was led back out into the main room where Q now stood at the front and called out, "Gwen and Betelgeuse?" Two of the worker bees split off from their groups and joined the quartermaster and the agent up front. Q first motioned to the tall woman with her hair in a bun and both a pencil and a pen sticking out of it.

"This is Gwen. Our go to girl for planning events or anything with a crazy amount of details. She is also a dab hand at analysing handwriting. Not something we put a lot of stock in, but she hasn't been wrong yet. And our shining star Betelgeuse." Q smiled at the man who looked to be about Bond's age although with more grey hair and only one eyebrow.

"Named for my love of explosives," he interrupted before Q got any further. Bond had no reaction. "After a star that is predicted to go supernova anytime." Still nothing from the agent.

"And also the best we have at cracking electronic locks." Q pressed onward. "They will meet you at the airport after their slightly later flight lands. I have you staying at the same hotel but on different floors. Any questions?” They shook their heads. “Right then. All of you back to work. I expect you two,” he pointed at Gwen and Betelgeuse, “to be leaving early today to get sleep before you fly.”

“Only if you do, boss,” Gwen laughed as she walked back to her computer.

“Watch me,” he responded with a grin. “I just might.” There were a few snickers from around the room since naturally everyone who could was eavesdropping in.

 ***

 Much to the astonishment of the Q branch minions, their boss did actually leave the office before five o'clock. It was a Friday and Bel had promised him the evening. So Q decided to head home early in order to watch The Hour and then decide on a place for dinner while he waited for her to close up and tell everyone that she had plans for the evening. It wasn’t too long after the end of the show that he heard the soft click of the door opening. They met each other’s eyes and smiled.

“What is the plan for tonight? O mystery man sitting on my sofa?” Bel asked as she shut the door and hung up her coat. Q closed down his laptop.

“Dinner for two and then tickets to the Globe.” He pulled out the tickets from his pocket and flourished them dramatically.

“What spectacular drama are we seeing?” she asked.

“We are going to go see the opening night of ‘Comedy of Errors.’ A thrilling tale of misadventure and mistaken identity. Two sets of twins, tragically separated by birth, torn apart in a vicious storm,” he expounded dramatically as he strode across the room to meet her arms. “Each pair had grown up not knowing the other existed until one fateful day in summer when their paths collided and fate spun them around!” Bel laughed as he twirled her around. “But first.” He stopped their motion and schooled his features into a serious face. “You and I must change. We are going to be groundlings for the evening and we can’t have your beautiful dress getting all dirty now can we?”

“And I’m sure your lovely cardigan would get a bit warm amid all of those other people,” she responded seriously.

“Too right. The plan is to get fish and chips to eat while we wait in line.”

“Well, we had best get changed and get going before the line gets too long and we can’t get close enough.” They grinned and raced each other to the bedroom, clothes flying as they raced to change into t-shirts and dark jeans for the evening out. As usual, Bel won, but Q was close behind.

“I won!” she cried and raced with her shoes out to the kitchen.

“Cheater! You’ve got less layers.”

“You should have thought of that when you got dressed for work. You could have even changed when you got home.” He poked his head around the doorframe to stick his tongue out at her like the child that he is. But then he put on his shoes and grabbed their oyster cards and keys from the table next to the door.

“All set?”

“Don’t keep me waiting, James.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Moneypenny.”

Hand in hand, grinning together, they walked out the door on the hunt for some good fish n’ chips.

 ***

All in all, it was a wonderful evening. The chips were a deliciously greasy treat while waiting in the line. They arrived early enough to hurry to the front of the stage and stake a claim where they were practically part of the action. It made the play feel much more real that way. It was simply no fun to watch from far off.

The play had perfectly cast actors for the twins and you could hardly tell who was who. The comedy was never ending and both Q and Bel were in tears at parts and clutching their stomachs, they were laughing so hard. It was a perfect break from their crazy work lives. On the walk home, they analysed the play and discussed what they would do if they found out they had a secret twin they never knew about. Bel thought she might send her twin to work for a day so that she could take a break and Q laughed and agreed, adding that it would be fun to see how long it would take people to notice. As much as they joked about all the things they could have their twin do for them at work, they both also realised that it would never happen.

Firstly, because neither of them did, in fact, have a twin, but secondly because they both cared about their jobs too much to let someone else try to take their place. Bel had worked far too hard to get where she was for someone else to come waltzing in.

Q had also worked hard to establish his competence and his skill as Quartermaster and couldn’t stand the thought of someone else taking care of his agents. Not to mention the obvious breach of the secrecy act that would occur.

At the end of the day, as they lay in bed together, one staring up at the ceiling and the other curled against him, they both agreed that they would never leave the lives they held.


	10. The Search Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an office is searched and secrets about Q branch are revealed.

Everyone arrived safely in America and checked in with Q once they arrived. Bond had gone with the two Q branch workers to their shared room, far less fancy than Bond’s own, and helped them check for bugs. They had their electronic gadgets, he had his spy senses. Q resisted the urge to giggle and call them his Spidey senses, but his minions caught his train of thought and also had to fight against the giggles. Their boss was far better at controlling his facial muscles though. The agent simply looked between the three of them, one on the tablet screen, and walked out without saying a word. 

As soon as he left, the boffins collapsed laughing on the bed to relieve some of their tension. For Gwen and Betelgeuse, it was their first time in the field. They were a little worried about messing things up or getting in the way of Double-oh Seven. Everyone knew he prefered solo missions despite his tendency to never go long without a female on his arm. Although most of those females ended up dying, so perhaps their position wasn’t necessarily enviable. 

“Don’t worry,” Q told them. “As long as you don’t try to tell him what to do, he will respect you and protect you. If he doesn’t, he knows he must answer to me.”

“We think you could give him a run for his money on the protective scale.”

Q smiled at Gwen’s comment. “Of course I could. I wouldn’t be good at my job if I didn’t have a fierce protective streak a couple lightyears long.”

After a little more talk, Q let them go and resumed work on his cloaking program while waiting for Bond to check in. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait too long before he heard the click in his ear and a voice saying, “You spoil me more than your own, Q. I’m flattered.”

“I can only hope that you will recognise my kindness and in return, bring back your equipment in one piece,” he shot back. “Notice I’m not even asking for working condition; just as long as I have the entire piece, I can rebuild it with minimal cost to my department’s budget.”

“I will try, my dear Quartermaster. In the meantime, I’m off for drinks with an old friend.” He hung up before Q could even take a breath to respond. But that was typical. And if that old friend was Felix Leiter of the CIA, then Bond had a valid excuse for wanting to finish the standard check in quickly. 

***

Despite being the last one to fall asleep last night, Bond was the first to be ready and was knocking on the door of the Q branch workers’ room while one of them was still in the shower. Gwen shyly opened the door for him, her hair still wet and her glasses still on. 

“Betel is just finishing up in the shower,” she said as she closed the door behind him. “We could go downstairs and get a start on breakfast while we wait for him if you’d be amenable to that?”

“That would be acceptable,” the agent agreed. He needed some solid food in him to start off the day.

“Excellent.” She grabbed her key card and phone before walking to the bathroom door. She rapped three times and, in a voice much louder than Bond had expected, called through to Betelgeuse. “Betel! Double-oh Seven and I are going down for breakfast. Get your lazy Wookie arse out of the shower soon or else there will be naught but a hairball left for you!” Bond blinked in surprise. “Shall we?”

It was a fairly nice breakfast for a hotel, well, the Q branch minions were impressed and Bond turned up his nose at the eggs, settling for a simple toasted bagel instead. Once they were a little more awake, they reviewed the plan for that day. Q branch had previously selected one of the many fake business fronts that they have available to secure a meeting with one of the secretaries of Mr. Miller. The hope was to search her office for anything that could give them insight into her boss’s plans without arousing suspicion. They could only hope it would go as smoothly as they had planned.

* * *

 

They arrived at the Hermes Express building at ten o’clock sharp and Bond sauntered up to the counter like he owned the place. “My name is Jonathon Blackwell. We had an appointment with Miss Lindsey Branch,” he said to the man behind the front desk. 

“What about?” the man inquired as he looked them up in the system.

“Familial documentation. Rather private matters, I’m afraid, for right now. You understand.”

“Right, yeah. Sorry to assume. Here you are.” He tapped the screen in satisfaction. “Let me just print off temporary badges for each of you and then she is on the eleventh floor in room two.” The little printer spat out some sticker badges which Bond disdainfully stuck onto his nice suit. “Just go up the escalators and the elevators are to your left.”

“Lifts,” Bond heard Gwen mutter to the other Q branch worker. He ignored them and nodded his thanks to the desk employee. The other two hurried after his long stride as they walked up the escalator to the lifts. 

When they reached Miss Branch’s office, she greeted them at the door and invited them in. Bond sat in front of her desk and when she offered to pour a drink, Gwen immediately insisted that she could get that while they began talking. 

“You said you couldn’t tell me all of the details over the phone and you would need to meet me in person. What is this about?” Miss Branch asked as she mindlessly accepted the drink from Gwen’s hand. Bond took the other glass that she handed him before she retreated to the back wall with Betelgeuse. 

“My client has been doing some family research,” Bond began. “Looking into ancestry and family trees, you understand. He was lonely and hoped that he could find someone to pass on his inheritance to after he passes. As it happens, you are a part of his family.” She opened her mouth to speak. “I know you are about to protest that you were unaware of this fact. Do not worry. It is actually in your favor that you have not been close with the English side of the family. That was rather why he went looking for other relatives. He would, however, like to meet you once before he passes on his fortune. I thought I might show you some pictures of him before you agree either way.” Bond trailed off as he could see Miss Branch was suddenly losing consciousness. The agent leaned over to catch her head before it could hit the desk. 

“Huh. That worked a little faster than predicted,” Betelgeuse remarked as Bond checked her heart rate to make sure she would stay out.

“Let’s get to work. Gwen, dig around the desk, but be sure to leave everything as you found it. Betelgeuse, look on the computer and see what you can find.”

“I’ll create a backdoor for HQ as well in case we need to leave.” 

Bond merely grunted in approval as he had already moved on to investigating the office in his own way, making sure to close the shutters over the door to deter anyone from walking past and wanting to come in. He also locked the door to make it harder to disturb them. A light bookcase in the corner of the room rotated out to reveal a hidden closet with some extra clothes and perfume along with a roll up mattress leaning against the wall in case an overnight stay at the office was required. He idly wondered if Q had something similar in his office. It seemed likely. The clothes could also be used if one didn’t make it home that evening and thus needed to change clothes at the office. You would just pray that the security guards could be discrete. 

Moving on from the room full of suits and dresses, he examined the pictures of family behind her desk. 

“Ah ha!” Gwen said. “I found her appointment book.” She flipped to today. “We have a little less time than we thought. Her cousin is coming by at noon to take her out for lunch. She seems to be a timely person so we should be out of here by then. No other appointments listed on here though.”

“Nothing else on her calender on the computer for today either,” Betelgeuse added. “Although it does remark that her boss is on a week long trip to London.”

“Make sure Q gets a copy of her calendars so he can assign one of your lot to keep an eye on him.”

Bond found a safe hidden behind a portrait and called Betelgeuse over to crack it while he moved on. Gwen let out and impressed noise as she went through the woman’s purse. “This perfume is far more expensive than I would expect from someone in her position in the company.”

“It also would not make sense for her to have all of these prototypes and company secrets in her safe,” Betelgeuse added, handing the papers to the agent.

“Take pictures of those,” he commanded. They continued searching for another 10 minutes before leaving no evidence of their search and only a business card leading to a false ancestry website on her desk. There would be normal correspondence for a couple weeks before she would be informed that a closer descendant has come forward and she would no longer be receiving anything.

They checked in with Q branch when they got back to the hotel to relay their findings and were instructed to check her house before the end of the day. Bond went alone this time in case Miss Branch decided to go home early in light of her missing memory. He didn't find anything further that would implicate her, but there was more of the expensive perfume and other things that should not be found in the house of a secretary. A sure sign that she was sleeping with a higher up. He looked through the laundry and found men's clothes, so, stealing a trash bag from the kitchen, he took a set that he could potentially get the lab at the CIA to analyse for them.

“So what you are saying is you think she is a middle man for the real brains behind the scheme?” R asked over the com link when they had all gathered in the hotel room before dinner. 

“She is certainly not the brains behind the huge scheme, but she has the organizational skills to carry it out,” Gwen said.  “She could be doing it partially to impress whoever she is sleeping with and thus move higher up in the company hierarchy.”

“So you think whoever she’s sleeping with is the person who is orchestrating this whole thing?” R asked.

“It is something I have seen before quite often,” Bond added. “It would provide a clear motive.”

“Well see if there is anything else you can learn from the documents you have pictures of and report back as soon as the CIA gets back to you. Unless there is anything else, I am signing off.” 

“Nothing further from our side,” Betelgeuse said. “Talk to you tomorrow then, R.”

“Don’t blow anything up tonight. Work on the designs for the competition instead. Signing off.” And with a click of a key from R, her image was replaced by the ornate Q branch logo that the minions had redesigned last year. It was one of the many informal contests that Q branch held within themselves each year. Q defended it by saying that it provided a test for filtering out impersonators. No old logos were allowed to be used after the change over date of July 17th. Anyone still using the old logo was to be put under discrete surveillance.

They had many other contests that occurred throughout the year. The ones that the rest of MI6 knew about tended to be more design centered or easily justifiable as work in some way. Q would issue design challenges for them to meet like the most useful watch, most discreet way to store a toothbrush, or the most useful sonic screwdriver. 

Other contests involved hacking. Every year Q would declare a day when he would go on a vacation and swear not to touch his computers while the minions raced to be the first to break his encryptions. The winner was declared S for the next year and was in charge of monitoring the network security.

On slower days, Q would hack all of their systems and they had twenty four hours to figure out what small thing he had changed.

But that did not include the discrete competitions that were conducted entirely on the closed Q branch server which no one outside of the branch knew about. These were usually photo competitions. Caption contests, best quote from an agent (that was a weekly one), and cosplay contests. This last one ran until June and the winner got tickets to San Diego Comic Con and Q would ensure that they made it to every event of their choosing. Unsurprisingly, there was fierce competition and the submissions were usually in video form, showing off the gadgets they had engineered to imitate the visuals achieved only via computer graphics in films. The current lead was a Falcon costume based on the Marvel movies. The wings did snap out but Q would hold off on forming an opinion until the promised demonstration when that employee was on a trip up in the highlands where no one would see. 

Betelgeuse was working on a costume to rival that one. He sat down at his computer and pulled up his blueprints and design specs. He kept a careful eye on Gwen to make sure she would not try to look. He was working on the Star Lord helmet in  _ Guardians of the Galaxy _ . In his opinion, given the built in earpiece and heads up display, the technology had potential to be applied to something for their agents so that they wouldn’t need to rely on a Q branch staff member. Especially in places where the signal was blocked. The design of the helmet was nearly complete; that was easier to gather from movie stills and behind the scenes sketches from the artists. 

Obviously the helmet would not collapse into the small earpiece in the film, but he was close to figuring out a design that would at least collapse to discrete sunglasses that would not seem out of place. There were a few pieces that would not collapse as well and stuck out from the arms of the glasses. It would need some further modification. 

Gwen was not taking part in that competition, but she was working on writing a science fiction story in her spare time, so she settled down to work on that. She enjoyed the challenge of characterising different aliens and making sure the readers could still relate to them, despite some very obvious differences. There was one race that had a single wheel on which to move around on and thus was always in motion. She had watched more than enough videos of people unicycling to satisfy her for life. The things you research for a novel.

Bond, of course, went out to a bar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feel free to find me on tumblr: http://spiritofcamelot.tumblr.com/


	11. At Home and Abroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is an episode of The Hour and Freddie and Bel are adorable together.

“On air in two minutes!” Bel called out as she rushed through Lime Grove studios. “Everyone in their places! Going live in less than two minutes!” She ran up the stairs into the recording booth and surveyed the scene before her.

She could see Hector standing patiently as the finishing touches to his makeup were applied. The camera men all had updated running orders. Isaac and his small team gave her the thumbs up to let her know that their sketch was ready to go. Lix’s assistant Chloe was already sitting in the interviewing chair with her interviewee who had escaped from a workhouse in Hong Kong. She looked nervous, but determined to tell her side of the story. Bel glanced at the clock and began her count down. 

“On air in five.” She held up her fingers. “Four. Lights. Camera.” She continued the rest of the countdown in silence, using only her fingers before motioning for action.

“Good evening and welcome to The Hour. The most important sixty minutes of your week,” Hector began. “This week was an upsetting week for the bacon lovers among us as we heard that bacon is now a source of cancer. One more deadly than smoking. However, the general public has mostly disregarded this latest carcinogen and proudly declared that they will continue eating bacon so long as they know it has not been touched by our Prime Minister, David Cameron. We also heard about more companies being hacked and the popular American theme park Seaworld's plan to phase out its whale shows in the next two years.” Hector slowly moved toward his desk. “But all of this pales in comparison to the protests going on in London this week in response to the proposed changes in the NHS. We sent our journalists to the scene.”

Bel motioned to roll the footage they had as they faded out on Hector. They were all able to have a breather while they watched Maddy out on the streets interviewing the protestors and hearing what they have to say about the proposed changes to the pay of junior doctors. 

“The people are in consensus,” she concluded. “Although we forget it at times, we are incredibly privileged to have the NHS and to have access to universal health care. This great system requires sacrifice. Both in the form of our tax money, but also in the incredible amount of time put in by all the staff at the hospitals around the country. Compared to the time the majority of the workforce spend at their jobs, they put in far more hours for far less pay. If we cannot support them as they support us, than we do not deserve the NHS.” Bel watched the time remaining tick down on the video and held her fingers up. “Back to you in the studio.” Two. One.

“Thank you, Maddy,” Hector said as the camera turned back to him. “I know many friends who would not be alive today if it weren’t for the amazing people of the NHS, so I for one stand with them in spirit. But this wasn't the only issue people were outraged about this week. To better explain the controversy over the tampon tax, we would like to present a short sketch set on Millionaire’s Row.”

They watched, those on set stifling their giggles, as Isaac’s team demonstrated an alternate universe in which all of the items on the luxury tax list like tampons and Aston Martins were actually considered luxury and the essentials like jaffa cakes and roast swan were essential for life. Bel noticed it also had the intended side effect of calming the nerves of the person Chloe would be interviewing next. It was a trick they had learned after a particularly nervous interviewee was calmed down by a few off handed jokes by the interviewer and they immediately tried to use that strategy whenever feasible. 

Soon the sketch was over and they turned directly to the interview corner where Chloe introduced herself and her guest. It was an interviewee that Freddie would have found if he still worked here, a young woman named Aileen who spoke out about the poor working conditions both in her home country of Hong Kong and the conditions in England.

"What I find most sad is the conditions in this country." Aileen turned slightly to look directly at camera three and the tech board accordingly switched. "The same conditions are present in this country and it is commonly known. There are rules and regulations in place in this country, but they are ignored. Any company with enough money to afford bribery can convince government officials to turn a blind eye. And the companies that do that, earn further money from their corruption. In England, it is profitable to treat humans as slaves."

She had a good message that tied in well with the recent protests and there was a website that provided reliable information as well as ways to get involved.

Chloe turned back to Aileen. "Thank you very much for joining us."

"It was my pleasure."

"And thank you for watching The Hour. The most important hour of news all week long. Goodnight."

She stayed smiling at the camera as Bel motioned for the credits to begin rolling and they faded out on her face. Instantly she relaxed and turned once again to heartily thank Aileen for coming on the show. 

On the preview screen, the credits finished and the channel transferred over to late night comedy talk shows. "That's a wrap everyone," Bel announced over the speakers. "Thank you once again for a wonderful show. You may all go home and treat yourself to some well deserved rest." A cheer went up from the floor. It had been an exhausting week. Bel hung around long enough to give Chloe a few tips on interviewing and decline invitations to go out for drinks. Freddie had texted to say he would be home and she was looking forward to a quiet night in.

* * *

"I get to be a journalist again for a day, tomorrow, Bel,” Q said suddenly as they cleaned up after dinner. She turned to look at him.

“That’s exciting!” She paused. “You don’t look excited though.”

“I won’t have you with me,” he said sadly. Bel set down the plate she was drying and put her hands on Q’s shoulders. 

“Look at me. You have never really needed me.” He opened his mouth to protest but she gave him a look and he clamped it shut. “Maybe to steer you on the right path or keep your head from drifting too high in the clouds, but all of your brilliant journalism has always been all of your own work. You have the instincts to know where the story is and the single-mindedness to follow it through to the story’s end. You always know what questions to ask because you do your research and you can read people. You know when they aren’t telling you something and you are exceptional at figuring out what that is. It doesn’t matter than you are no longer a journalist by trade, you are a journalist at heart. Nothing can ever separate that instinct from you. So tonight we will talk about this assignment and we can prep like we used to and then you will go and blow their socks off with how amazing you are.” The small smile she liked best was back on Freddie’s face.

“It’s you who are amazing. If I didn’t have soapy hands I would give you a hug.”

“Then I will just have to settle for a kiss instead.”

“Anything for you, Moneypenny.” He leaned forward and crashed their lips together, Bel’s hands holding him tight. 

“The rest of the dishes can drip dry,” she said when they broke apart. “I’m going to go change.”

“No fair,” he pouted.

“Better hurry up with the washing then,” she teased as she pranced off to the bedroom. Q managed to wash the rest of the dishes faster than he ever had before. He wasn’t necessarily confident in the cleanliness of said dishes, but some things were more important. He rinsed off his hands in the cold water and ran to the bedroom to put his cold wet hands on the back of Bel’s neck. She jumped and tried to fend him off as he kept flicking water at her while they laughed. It turned into a game of chase, with Q shedding layers of clothes to fling at her face, before they just both ended up laughing next to each other on the bed, clutching their stomachs. 

When they calmed down, Q rolled over to grab his little black notebook off the side table and open it up to his existing notes. He flipped to the correct page and then propped himself up on one arm and positioned the book so that Bel could see as well.

“I only learned yesterday that it would be this person and he is conveniently part of a press conference here in London tomorrow. We don’t necessarily need him to admit to being behind the bomb threat at the energy conference.” Bel raised her eyebrows. “Oh yeah, that’s what this is about. There was a bomb, but that plan was foiled so they fell back on Magnesium to cause chaos and threatening journalists to get their message out. We have traced it back to him. We aren’t sure if he was where the idea originated, but he is the head of a large company in the States that relies quite heavily on oil and thus feels threatened by this new technology.

“I don’t need him to admit his guilt then and there, but I need to put enough pressure on him to make him nervous and start to tarnish his image. If he starts to crack at this press thing, he will be much easier to interrogate later and harsher methods will not be needed.” He gave a little shudder. There were still certain parts of MI6 he avoided due to association with less pleasant memories of his last year at Lime Grove. 

“Have you heard of the oil spills in the Gulf of Mexico?” Bel asked. Q nodded. He thankfully did not have to do much with it, but he remembered Tanner talking about all of the disgruntled diplomats on both sides who were fed up with the business people trying to incite a war that neither side wanted. “You could try asking him about his opinion on that. Whether he views it as a sign that the world needs to stop relying on oil when it causes so much damage to the environment.” Q nodded and scribbled the idea on the page before sticking the small pencil back in his hair. “What else have you found out about the man? I know you have researched him.” She smiled at him and he smiled back. They continued like this until they both ran out of ideas and they were too exhausted to do anything else other than fall asleep where they lay.

  
  


 

 

The next morning, Q dressed in one of his nicer suits and slid his notebook into his pocket. Bel smiled at him over breakfast, thinking on how much he’d grown up and matured since they first met. 

His staff did a double take as he walked into the office. They had seen him in suits before, but he usually looked disgruntled and peeved, an understandable side effect of the meetings he was forced to attend. Today, however, he was lighter on his feet and there may have even been a ghost of a smile on his face. Q went into his office and set down his things before coming back into the main room.

“Is there anyone who is not too busy today who would like to accompany me to a press conference this afternoon?” he asked.

“What’s the conference about?” someone asked.

“There is to be a company merger between a few transportation companies, mostly boring stuff, but we are concerned with a particular CEO who is connected to attacks on energy reforms and possible terrorist activities.”

"I'll join you." Kathryn spoke up. Q thought for a split second. She was a middle-aged woman who always reminded Q of a stern librarian despite her kind nature. She thought on her feet like the best of his branch and she could certainly pass as a journalist. 

"Good. Join me in my office."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me at SpiritofCamelot on Tumblr


	12. Still Got It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Q demonstrates that Freddie is not entirely gone and the journalism game is still his to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was one of my favourites to write. I'd love to know what you think. Drop a note in the comments or on tumblr at SpiritofCamelot.

The press conference room was nothing more than a classroom-style room that reminded Q of many boring lectures in uni. He had his laptop out and was mindlessly taking notes on the announcement of the transportation merger because he could not work on any of his projects in such a public setting. It was a nice break from his normal work while giving his brain something else to concentrate on. 

There were a few speakers before the man they needed and Q asked a few questions to promote the cover of being a real journalist again. Before long, the man they were waiting for walked up to the lectern and many eyes were drawn to him. 

He was a tall, stocky man who had an air of power around him. He walked like he expected to command the attention of everyone in the room, and in this case he did. The moderator shook his hand while the polite applause was still going and then he turned to the room.

“May I introduce Mr. Ronald Miller, CEO of Hermes Transport. He is the leader of one of the United States’s finest transport companies and is devoted to educational outreach. His program aims to teach the next generation how everything in this world is connected and inspire them to search for innovative solutions to the problems of the future. I’ll open the floor to questions.” Q could see Kathryn glance at him to see what he would do, but he would let a couple others get some questions in first. His goal was to be the last person to ask him any questions. The first reporter stood up.

“Ashley Smith from the Liverpool Business Magazine. Many have raised the question of why a transport company from America is joining together with companies primarily in Europe,” a young blonde reporter began. “What do you think your presence brings to this endeavour?”

“I believe my company brings a new perspective on how transportation ought to work in the world,” he responded. “Since America is a big country, my company has plenty of experience transporting items over long distances which many of my fellow companies in this merger have not had experience in. Our company will be here to share its technology for transporting refrigerated products as well as the best way to keep the passengers that we serve satisfied throughout the long journey.”

“So this is purely technologically based for you, is that correct?” an older gentleman from the back of the room inquired. “From the perspective of the consumer, what will we gain by having a company from America involved in this merger?”

“The consumer will be able to have a more satisfying journey over the longer distances that the European companies will be putting together.” Mr. Miller grinned. “Soon you will be able to travel from London to Athens and only have to buy tickets from one company. No more eighteen hour layovers in small cities with no proper hotels.” There was a spattering of polite laughter from the room.

“Marcus O’Neil from the Metro. Are there any potential advantages to using Hermes transport for European businesses looking to start shipping across America that already use the transportation services of a company on the European side of this merger?”

“There is currently no plan for reducing the shipping costs, but that is something that would be discussed on a company to company basis. It is certainly a possibility.”

“Emily Portsmouth from the Daily Mail. Since there is now a conglomeration transport company between Europe and the United States, could we perhaps see a transatlantic railway in the future?” Q and Kathryn glanced at each other and rolled their eyes. They both knew how ridiculously unfeasible that project would be. Even today the Eurostar was a marvel of engineering despite the fact that the Channel is neither deep nor wide. And, Q thought, if the questions are going to go down that road, he would have to interrupt soon. He hit record on his handheld recording device and stood up as soon as Mr. Miller finished answering that last question.

“Robert Smith reporting for The Minute. As a company that currently depends a lot on oil, what are your views on the recent oil spill off the gulf of Mexico?”

“Yes, that was certainly a tragedy,” he responded. “We at Hermes transport are very keen to find out the problem that caused that horrible spill and do anything we can to assist in preventing further problems at other oil mining facilities.”

“Has your company given any thought to alternative energy?” Q asked before anybody else could get a word in edgewise. “Surely that would be an innovative solution to a future problem like you are trying to teach the next generation.”

“According to our current research, that is still very far off—“

“But surely a man of your learning,” Q interrupted, “a Doctorate in business with a concentration in entrepreneurial business, I believe, should see the benefit of devoting some money to researching these promising new solutions. Do you have any of your profits going into this research and development?”

“No. As I said, the current work is very far off and I have seen nothing yet that was able to demonstrate enough progress.”

“On the contrary, there was a demonstration at a recent energy conference in Paris just under two months ago. You must have had a representative there for the demonstration of the Zefyre energy device from Kochab Labs. Would you consider investing in their research?”

“No!” he shot back immediately. Then he realized how harsh that sounded and tried to laugh it off to cover up his error. “My team requires more proof than a single demonstration to begin investing in a research group. As I’m sure you understand, our profits can only stretch so far.”

“So you are waiting until all the work is done for you and a finished product is completed to your exact specifications before you will put any money into alternative energy?” Q pressed. “Meanwhile oil spills keep happening and endangering our planet, both the wildlife and the people living in the areas that are affected, and this seems fine to you?”

“Our oil mines are in remote locations that do not affect human life even if they were to develop a leak. None of ours ever have,” he said proudly.

“But with this merger you are expecting your business to increase. And with an increase in demand for your services, you will increase your demand for oil and you will be forced to rely on other oil mines that are close to humans or else dedicate a huge sum of money to finding a new location to construct a mine where no one else has. And even if your oil mines are not leaking and are not in the zone that you deem as near the human life, they are still interrupting the local ecosystem. The ramifications of this will spread far and affect our food supply. Already there has been a studied reduction in the number of fish caught each season in the ocean off of Alaska that can be safely eaten by humans because of the oil mines nearby.”

“That is expected if their mines up there keep bursting, but our mines --” he was interrupted again.

“Those mines have not burst. They have not leaked. This is entirely from the vibrations caused by the act of mining and the introduction of machinery into their environment. The constant boat traffic and the oil used to keep the machinery running smoothly. The noise of the drilling disrupting the environment that harms the ecosystem and results in unhealthy wildlife. Alternative sources to oil cause none of these problems, but you intend on ignoring them until they are tailored to your exact specifications?” 

There was silence in the room. The other reporters could not seem to decide if they would rather watch this Robert Smith or the CEO. Mr. Miller’s face had turned slightly red with fury. He had never been interrupted at any sort of speaking event before and he found he did not like it. “Well?” Q continued. “We are waiting. Does the head of the famed Hermes Transport company support the needless destruction of the environment in order to protect his profit despite saying that his company stresses teaching children to look for innovative solutions to the problems of the future? What is the lesson you are really trying to instill in the next generation?”

He left another pause, but Mr. Miller appeared to be at a loss for words. “Are you teaching the future generation to do whatever it takes to make it to the top, even if that includes planning a monopoly to skyrocket prices in your favour?” There were shocked faces around the room and reporters frantically made notes. “Does your son like taking camping trips with the scouts or going with friends to the ocean? It would be a pity if he grew up in a world where those places were no longer safe to visit. If the pollution of the world that you perpetrated had ruined his favourite past times.”

“That’s enough!” Mr. Miller finally roared. He was bright red now and his fists were shaking at his side. “I’m not having any more of these wild accusations.”

“Yet you are not denying the truth to them are you, Mr. Miller?” Q couldn’t resist adding as the man marched off the stage. He paused, whirling around to point a menacing finger at Q.

“You better sleep with both eyes open and a shotgun under your pillow, Sonny,” he threatened. He looked like he was going to say more, but someone grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him out of the room. Q slowly relaxed back into his seat and sat there with a very smug grin on his face as he muttered, “I think you will find that you are the one who needs to be sleeping with eyes wide open.”


	13. Constant Interruptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Q is constantly needed and cannot seem to find time to relax for long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like long chapters, because this one is a doozy. I had forgotten just how long it was until I was reading it over before posting.

The press conference was done very shortly after that. Q asked no more questions, only took notes. Kathryn slowly shook herself out of her amazement to question Q about his supreme journalism skills on the tube ride back to Vauxhall.

“That was amazing,” she gushed. “How are you so good at that?”

“I did a lot of research,” he replied.

“But that’s not all,” she accused. “I could have done a lot of research and not been able to carry it off as well as you just did.”

“I have a lot of friends who are journalists,” he admitted. “I suppose some of it has rubbed off. I used to help them prepare for interviews.”

She felt like there was something more to it than that, but she also knew that he wasn’t lying. She decided to let it go. “So what now?”

“I believe he might find that his flight home has been unexpectedly delayed and he will have to stay another two days in England. At least some of that time will be spent visiting our lovely basement. Hopefully he is a gracious guest and is willing to engage in some pleasant conversation. If not, I fear the dogs may start to bite at his ankles.” He couldn’t help the small smile that crept back onto his face. It wasn’t that he enjoyed wishing pain upon others, but he was on the hunt and he was not going to let his prey get away before he got the whole story. 

 

 

By the time they had made it back to the office, most of Q branch had already seen the video of the smack down from the security cameras. They greeted him with a round of applause to which he jokingly bowed before taking the recorder out of his bag and tossing it at R. “If you are going to keep the video, I believe it needs audio.” His minions lit up and he left them to it. As soon as his office door slid shut, they started attacking Kathryn with questions. She laughed and just held up her hands. 

“Just wait until you get the audio with the video. Then you can ask any questions.”

The same as the room full of reporters, there was shocked silence as they listened to their boss tear the man to shreds. They realised that the agents who returned without their equipment got it easy. No wonder he never bothered to raise his voice if he knew full well what some good research could do when delivered well. Now the reason behind the smug smile of satisfaction on his face when he sat back down in his seat was more apparent. 

“All right,” R said when the video ended and the big screens returned to monitoring agents. “Back to work everybody. The world doesn’t sleep just because Q is a badass.”

“I wish it did!” a certain badass’s voice called from his office.

“You’d be out of a job and bored out of your mind!” R shot back without hesitation. They all laughed. It was a truth of their job that unless there was trouble in the world to keep them focused, they would end up causing the trouble in the world.

* * *

 

 

As Q had predicted, because that was the plan, Mr. Miller’s flight did end up unfortunately delayed and the aforementioned CEO was then forcefully drugged and taken to the bowels of the MI6 building. He was greeted by one of the specialist interrogators and proceeded to be drained of compromising information. Q would have preferred not to watch at all, but he had a job to do so he had the security camera footage running on one monitor to the side while he listened to the audio. He wasn’t actually sure which was worse. It wasn’t a particularly bloody session like his had been, but it was painful in other ways. And this man was a screamer. Q had planned on listening in his earpiece while he worked in the main observation room, however he had to switch it over to the external speakers in his office so that it was less harsh on his ears but not everyone would have to hear it. 

In his headset he was also talking with Bond, Gwen, and Betelgeuse who were taking advantage of the difference in time zones to go through Mr. Miller’s office and home. Bond took the office since it had security while his two Q branch members went to the home. Luckily, the rest of the family was also here in England on a vacation so there should not be any worry of someone walking in on them. 

“I found a safe in his bedroom,” Betelgeuse said. “It definitely has some interesting plans for this merger. He certainly views it more as a potential takeover and is aiming to run the entire thing. He wants a behind the scenes monopoly on the train system moving people between countries. It would skyrocket the prices.”

“Send back pictures of that,” Q said, wincing at the screams over the speakers. “I know how to put that to good use. What else?”

“I’ve got lots on his computer,” Gwen said. “He has abysmal security for the stuff he is planning. He clearly thought he knew how to do things the best way.” Q could hear Bond scoff. “Exactly. Huge ego. I’m linking the computer to Martin so we can have backdoor access but honestly it wouldn’t be too hard to find again. There are plenty of emails that look suspicious so we can go through those later.”

“Check for a folder that is called something that would deliberately steer you away,” Q suggested.

“Or one labeled taxes,” Bond added.

“Both could easily hide some incriminating files.” Another round of pleading had started but the man had not given much away yet. Q could guess that he might break soon. They had gotten some information out of him that he didn’t realise just from his unconscious reactions to probing questions. “Bond, anything interesting in your search?”

“There are some strangely marked maps on the wall. Not sure what they are for but I’ve got pictures for your team. They are in the Middle East so I would guess they are connected to an oil company somehow.”

“But why would he still have paper maps in this day and age?” Q wondered aloud. 

“This is the same man who hates new technology,” Gwen reminded him. 

“And who still owns a Nokia phone?” Q could hear the outrage in Betel’s voice. 

“Oh, gods above, it is ancient,” Gwen laughed. “No wonder he sends so many emails if that is his only phone.”

“No, it wouldn’t be his only phone,” Bond said, very serious. “He might not be as tech savvy as your lot, but he clearly has a laptop that he knows how to work. He would not have gone on a business trip without a phone so that phone is important in some other way. Take it back with you to the hotel.”

“And if you see the charger grab it,” Q added. “You are less likely to notice a phone is missing if you can’t see the empty charger.” There was silence over the com lines again before something in the interrogation was suddenly useful. “Betel, check in the ceiling of his son’s room.”

“What?” He was startled. “Why?”

“Something he said in interrogation. Just look.”

He looked around the room with his phone light. “There’s a door in the ceiling all right. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Q, I am logged on to the office computer,” Bond said. “How do I give you the link?”

“Plug in your phone through the USB then open up the command center. It’s in the start menu.”

“I have been on enough mission that I know how to get to that point, Q.”

“Good. Then type in ‘Mellon, James’ and hit enter. That’s M-e-double l-o-n.” Bond was confused, but did as he was instructed. Instantly the code started running incredibly fast and then the screen turned into a crazy three dimensional maze that was running by itself. He described the strange display to Q.

“That’s a boffin joke, my dear agent.” That explained why Gwen and Betelgeuse were also giggling. “Windows XP. Old screen saver, better graphics.” Bond just shook his head in exasperation and returned to searching the office.

* * *

 

 

Bel was sitting at her desk, sorting through the news reports that had been on her desk when she arrived, when Lix walked in. “Hey Lix,” Bel greeted. “How was your weekend?”

“Relaxing,” she replied with a grin. “Did you see the news?”

Bel laughed. “My desk is covered with news. You are going to need to be more specific.”

“The press conference. Transportation mergers or something.”

“I don’t remember that one. I didn’t think we sent anyone there.”

Lix sat down. “Have you heard of a newsgroup called The Minute?” she asked. Bel mentally ran through her list of others that she was aware of and shook her head. “There was apparently a reporter who was reporting for The Minute and my other sources say that he was really aggressive. They think he must have had some personal agenda against the CEO from America, Mr. Miller I think his name was. Apparently he didn’t ask many questions of any other person except this one. And that one he tore into. A total smackdown. The man had clearly done his research well.”

“Are you talking about that reporter that no one has ever heard of before at the press conference?” Randal interrupted as he also poked his head into Bel’s office. He tossed down a print out of an amateur reporting blog. Bel scanned it while Lix read upside down. She whistled appreciatively. 

“And no one has found out who this person is?” Bel asked. “No one has heard of The Minute?”

“No one knows,” Randal affirmed. “I want us to find out and add him to our team. He might be a key thing that we have been lacking since Mr. Lyon left.” There was a silent, but very brief pause in the room. 

“I’ll see if my friend has a description for us to start with,” Lix said as she stood up. “We will do our best to find out about him and see if I can use my charm to get him to switch to our side.” 

Bel smiled. “You do that,” she laughed. “I’ll ask some of my contacts as well.”

Before the end of the day, the office gossip among the original folk was that this person was a lot like Freddie. So naturally when Bel arrived home and found Q also at home, she crossed her arms and stared him down.

“What?” he asked. It was a busy day at work even though he did manage to leave at a reasonable time. He had only really been home long enough to change out of his suit jacket , take off his tie, and throw some chicken and rice in the oven while snacking on a bagel. He wasn’t actually sure if he had eaten lunch, but that wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. 

“I know not everyone was born to be a spy like you, Freddie, but The Minute? Really?” She shook her head in exasperation. 

“I don’t know what you are referring to,” he deadpanned. She rolled her eyes and stalked closer. 

“Of course you don’t,” she said, the sarcasm nearly palpable in the room. “There just happens to be a brilliant journalist, who no one can track down, from a group that no one has heard of, who doesn’t even publish their brilliant journalism, at a press conference this weekend. The same weekend,” she leaned forward as she said this and stole the bagel out of Q’s loose grip, “as my brilliant husband says he wants my help prepping for an interview with an important businessman. This same husband of mine, did I mention, was once a brilliantly ruthless journalist who worked on a show called The Hour. Which, in case you haven’t realised, sounds eerily similar to The Minute. Now I know you say this is a coincidence, but he happens to look just like my husband.” She paused and tilted her head. “The reports may have been exaggerating how mature and professional he looked though.” Q was already fighting a smile and stuck his tongue out at her. “No you’re right. My childish husband could never have been the devilishly handsome Robert Smith.”

“Absolutely right,” Q agreed. “Your husband would only ever go back to being a journalist if he was working for you. To write for anyone else....”

“No one else would let you do the crazy shenanigans that you always do,” she shot back with a grin. 

“That’s because no other producer goes out during the day to buy porn and has the audacity to claim it is for a story.”

“Says the man who picked up communists like you would a stray cat.”

“The cats come home, the commies go to the studio. And I only feed one of them.” They would have continued their banter as they moved more and more into each other’s personal space, but the beeping of the oven interrupted them. Startled, the both jumped back before laughing and Q took the chicken out. It smelled heavenly.

Unfortunately, Q was not destined to eat it all. He was interrupted by a phone call. And a phone call on his work phone after he left the office was never a good sign. He exchanged a knowing glance with Bel as he grabbed his phone. 

"Q here."

"We need your expertise, Quartermaster," M said. "I'm sending a car round."

"What's the problem?"

"You'll find out on the way there. There should be a car waiting outside in a moment to take you to the site."

"Copy that, sir." He hung up and went to put his shoes and coat on. 

“You’ve got to go?” Bel asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. They need my expertise apparently. They won’t tell me what the emergency is over the phone. I can’t say when I’ll be back, but if you could save some in the fridge for me that’d be wonderful.”

“Of course.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Stay safe.”

“No promises,” he replied with a cheeky grin as he swept out the door. He rushed down the stairs to the black car waiting outside. Except it wasn’t a black car like he expected. It was a silver Aston Martin with a certain troublesome agent leaning against it. Q just rolled his eyes and got inside.

“I see they demoted you to taxi driver,” he quipped. “Who did you piss off this time?”

“No one yet.” Bond put the car in gear and they shot off down the road. “I was reporting in to M after the flight when we got a call from the Italian embassy. They wouldn’t explain everything over the phone, but it seems they requested you specifically.” Q glanced over at the agent, confusion written in his furrowed brow. “Apparently word has spread of a technological god that heads our R and D section. And they would only trust someone with the highest of security clearances to access their system.”

“In other words, it’s probably not too difficult a problem to fix. Just above their own skill level, which forces them to turn to outside help if they want things running smoothly by morning.”

“Exactly.” The rest of the brief ride was completed in companionable silence until Tanner greeted them at the steps of the embassy.

“Bond filled you in on the details?”

“There wasn’t much, but he’s told me what we know. I presume their techs are waiting inside?” Q hurried inside, Bond and Tanner flanking him on either side. The head of IT shook hands with Q and introduced himself as Christopher as they went to the nearest bank of computers. The man explained what he had noticed and what he thought he might have missed. Q sat down at the neighboring computer and logged in with the IT password he was given.

It was strange, Q thought, to be invited into another country’s deep systems. Usually he had to hack his way in. Of course, he usually wasn’t digging around in the computers of a local embassy, but aiming directly at the heart of the government. He was very aware of the Italian man watching his every keystroke. He had shown Q what signs of an intruder he had found but he was humble enough to recognize where his talents stopped. Now Q was doing his own looking around.

Mostly, it was going well. He had pointed out possible entry points into the system and left Christopher to patch them while he continued on. It was a little slower than his usual since there was a lot of Italian and he didn’t have his custom translation software running. But soon enough, he had narrowed down the area of entrance and had a good idea of what damage was done.

Both of the boffins grimaced and Bond asked what they had found.

“Someone definitely got in,” Q explained. “We’ve found where and we can patch that up, but it looks like the damage is widespread. They certainly opened lots of files; without doing more digging, I can’t immediately tell if whoever it was downloaded or corrupted anything.”

“Will you be able to look at that before the morning?” Christopher asked. Q shook his head.

“Sorry, I don’t think so. I can show you how to patch up this hole here and throw up a few more firewalls. But if you want me to do a thorough scouring I’m going to have to run some of the programs that are back in my lab.” He frowned in apology and the other man matched his frown.

“One moment, I need to talk with my boss.” Q nodded in acquiescence and the Italian pulled out his phone. Bond and Tanner took the opportunity to walk back over and get an update on the situation.

“Enjoying your chance to catch up over there on the wall?” Q teased.

“Not like you needed our help,” Bond pointed out.

“I might need you to carry some things later,” Q said.

“So what’s the situation?” Tanner asked. “Did you find the issue?”

Q ran his hand through his hair. “Someone got into their systems. We found how they got in and plugged that hole along with a few others that I noticed. We can see that files were viewed but I would need to run some specialized programs to determine exactly what damage has been done to their system. I also can back trace the IP address easier from the lab than here. Not to mention, I know very few words in Italian so it won’t be easy to spot miniscule changes in the code.”

“What is he asking his boss about then?” Bond nodded toward the other tech.

“Asking if it is okay for me to take their router and one of the computers back to Six.” Just then, Christopher returned.

“Would you be able to supply us with a secure connection for the day so that we can operate the essentials?” Q said he would have it arranged and they shook on the deal. Christopher then sent one of his men to show Tanner and Bond where everything they needed was located while Q and himself discussed finer details. Soon everything Q needed was in a few boxes by the door.

Tanner turned to Q. “Bond can take you back home if you wish.”

“No, I need to take this to office first.”

“I’ll take you then,” Tanner offered. “It’s where I’m going as well.” Q graciously accepted the offer of a ride and they loaded the boxes in Tanner’s car. Christopher thanked them once again and Q reassured him that everything would get remedied as quickly as possible. He understood how unsettling it was to have to rely on unfamiliar firewalls.

As soon as he hauled the equipment down to his branch, he dug out his sandbox laptop, the one that was not connected to the MI6 network, but the specially built private network on which to test viruses or other potential computer problems, and used the cable to direct connect to the Italian Embassy network. Trusting in the firewalls of his specially built network he opened up the system structure, began running some software of his own design, and threw himself into unraveling the code that was before him. He didn’t see himself returning home that night. His night staff, more than used to this behavior, brought a mug of warm tea every couple of hours and some light snacks keep him going. They always set it at the same spot on his desk and if it weren’t for the crumbs left behind he would’ve never noticed they were there and that he had eaten anything.

The alarm on his phone that would normally wake him up in time to get to work startled him out of his concentration. A glance at the clock showed him that the IT section would be staffed by now. He finished the section of code he was working on before standing up, stretching, and walking over to IT. As he walked, he sent a quick email to Bel to let her know that he was safe.

The IT section was technically under his command as the head of Q branch, but they generally ran themselves and he was never particularly worried. He was mostly just glad that the executive branch went to them for printer problems rather than him.

“All hail the computer god,” one of the technicians called out jokingly as he walked in the room.

“Good morning my faithful minions,” he called back the same tone of voice. Although he didn’t spend a lot of time here, Q did enjoy the relaxed atmosphere since they were not running missions.

“And how can we best serve you today, my lord,” a different minion asked.

“I would like one of you to head over to the Italian Embassy and install a temporary, decently secure network for them to use for a couple days.” A few confused and curious looks were exchanged, but most of the branch knew better than to ask for details. They would know what they needed to know. Such was the business of spies.

“Myself and Julia can do that,” one of the technicians replied. “Should we report to you once it is complete?”

“No. This report goes to Beta as usual. I trust you guys.” After giving them a summary of the technical details that the network required, Q walked towards the canteen and executive branch. One of the benefits of being head of branch was the better food. He wasn’t too sure what his staff had fed him overnight, but he wasn’t ravenously hungry, so he decided that a bagel and some tea would do. And maybe a chocolate chip muffin. He enjoyed the relative quiet of the early London morning sitting at one of the couple tables outside on the small balcony. It would soon be growing colder and he could no longer sit out here in just a jumper; he intended to enjoy the last of the warmth while he could.

After finishing his bagel and deciding to save half of his muffin for later, Q also decided that since nobody urgently needed him, he would take a wander around the MI6 building to stretch his legs before settling in to work for the day. He wandered strategically, at every intersection he would chose a path along the pattern of two lefts, one straight, then a right followed by two lefts, two rights, then three straights. It was always fun to see where that would lead him. 

It led him to the memorial wall. 

His feet stopped in front of the wall and he looked up at the long list of agents who had died in service of the country. Having worked at MI6 for five years now, he knew some names on there. An agent he had helped once who then got shot from behind because he wasn’t paying attention. Another who he had talked through some tech help a few times later was buried in his own building explosion. One Double-oh that he had been online with at the time of her death. Sniper. Through the window of the hotel room. Through the closed curtains even. There was nothing he could have done, but it was the first agent he had lost while he was quartermaster; the first of  _ his _ agents that he had lost. 

Then there were the three more personal ones. The old Q was on here. Of course he was on the Q branch memorial wall as well, but it somehow meant more on this wall. 

The M who had hired him. Olivia Mansfield. The name looked out of place, but he supposed that you couldn’t mark the death of one individual by a codename. He wondered idly what name they would put for him on the wall. 

And then there was the last one. The one that very few people were aware was connected to him. He wasn’t even sure that the new M knew. It wasn’t in his personnel file. Thomas Kish. That had nearly been seven years ago now, but it still haunted him in his dreams some nights. He still remembered vividly watching as the man tumbled backward over the railing, the body flipping through the air before hitting the floor with a sickening thud of meat. He ran his fingertips over the name lightly. He still kept the coat though.

 

 

Q arrived back in his branch to find Bond waiting for him. “What can I do for you, Double-oh Seven?”

“Wondered what you had found out from last night,” he said as he followed Q back into his office. “Your minions say you were here all night so I’m assuming you found something.” Q cast him a look over his shoulder, shaking his head at the assumption.

“Normally I’d give you a lecture on the difference between correlation and causation, but in this case you are correct so I will spare you.” Bond grinned unrepentantly and Q only rolled his eyes as he sat back down at the computer and slid his muffin half into a drawer. “It looks like it was nothing more than some over ambitious hacker who thought that planting a virus in the network to start siphoning off money from each person’s account a little at a time would be a good plan. It had only been planted yesterday so Christopher caught it in time. The virus would have been found eventually, but by then it would already be embedded on the computers and hidden and thus harder to find. Especially if they never notice the money leaving. A rather smart plan actually.”

“Are you admiring the guy, Q?”

“Of course not,” Q scoffed. “His execution was sloppy and his code itself lacks elegance. If he were one of my staff I would have him suspended and sent to remedial coding courses as punishment. He simply had a smart plan. Especially the delayed deployment which would mean that there was a smaller chance of it being noticed when scanning for changes in the system. But he didn’t count on us getting involved. No one can outrun me on the internet.” He had that smug grin back on his face. Q transferred the image from his screen up to one of the larger monitors on the wall. “This is the hacker who is behind it. Decent grades, lack of a social life, abusive parents, probably looking to get enough money to get out and do something on his own. He’ll be on his own alright, but I don’t think he will be walking far from a chain link fence for a few years. He’s not good enough to make a deal with the government.” Bond raised an eyebrow at that. “There are quite a few people in the security business that could have easily been in jail, but have sufficient skill that they are better utilized serving their country. A good number of my branch is.”

Bond looked mildly surprised, but seemed to think about it for a second and realise that maybe it wasn’t too unusual. They were spies. Most of them had dubious backgrounds one way or another. “I also wanted to know what we found out from Mr. Miller. M said he had been released, but we were interrupted before we got any further and he is busy in meetings most of today. Moneypenny sent me down to talk with you.”

“My branch hasn’t shown you the footage of the press conference yet have they?” Q asked suspiciously. 

“No. I didn’t know there was any.” The agent was puzzled. “Did something important happen there that is relevant?”

“Not relevant to the mission, no.” He waved his hand dismissively before walking over to his main laptop to pull up the mission notes. “Aside from revealing some lovely dirty secrets that will probably stop him from ever running a company again, he did give us the name of an oil company and a location.” Bond walked up behind him. 

“Golden Oil company in Turkey. Lovely.”

“Indeed. His company had a private deal to use their oil exclusively. Cheaper for Hermes Transport and a guaranteed customer for Golden Oil when so many other companies are trying to cut back on oil use and invest in other energy sources. Like it or not, oil is losing momentum and they are striving to keep themselves afloat. Mr. Miller said he only had a codename of the person he was dealing with and that offered us no help.”

“How did they communicate?”

“Burn phones. We already tried to trace calls but they are all dead ends. I’ve put a bug on Miller’s phone in case there are future calls but I don’t think that will be likely. If his contractor was watching the press conference he would know that the CEO is under investigation and will wait to be contacted with an all clear.”

“Unless he gets really antsy and needs to know what is going on.”

“Hence the bug on his phone that Miller knows nothing about.”

“What does M want me doing?” the agent asked, sitting back down in the chair next to Q’s desk. 

“Nothing at the present moment. In the future we will be sending you to Turkey to work with the station there. They have had the company on their radar for a couple weeks now but they haven’t had anything conclusive that would justify a mission. This might be something big for them. Possibly infiltration, so learning what you can about the oil business would be your best plan of action at the moment,” Q said apologetically. “I know that sitting around reading is not what you prefer but sometimes that’s all we have for you.”

“I understand. Maybe I can beat my records in the pool while I have a few weeks in a row to get back in a workout routine.” Q shooed him out of the office and told him to go jump in the pool and practice while he got back to the real work. 

“Because some of us don’t just work during your missions.”


	14. Quintessence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a period of relative peace is broken by the need for Q's expert fingers.

“Another email from the anonymous sender,” Lix called out to Bel. The producer strode over to where Lix was leaning over Alexander’s computer. “He sent it directly to Alexander’s account.”

“Let me see,” Bel said, now also leaning over the nervous journalist’s shoulder. “ _ I know this is unlike my usual emails, _ ” she read in a quiet voice so that only the three of them could hear. “ _ But in this case, I have to ask you to not air the following this week. However, I think you should have it now to prepare a well put together story for a later week _ .” An attached zip file called MillerMonopoly contained numerous files with helpful summaries of what each one contained. “I would be more worried about why if I did not see the abundance of material. Even if there was no request to delay the air date, I think I’d have to assume we would be delayed any way. There is enough here that it will take a while to sort through and it also looks to be big enough that we want to reveal it all flawlessly.”

“Why did he send it to me?” Alexander asked. 

“It can easily be connected with your story about the oil spill,” Lix replied, straightening up. “Maybe the mystery sender knew what you were working on and wanted to send this to help you out.”

“Looks like you are officially part of the team now,” Bel congratulated as she patted him on the back. “Receiving an email from the anon seems to mean that he has accepted you into the fold; he has deemed you trustworthy enough to have access to what he knows.”

“And you really don’t know who he is?” They both shook their heads. “Have you tried to find out?”

“We tried at the beginning when the emails first came,” Lix recalled. “But no luck. Totally untraceable. He then sent another asking for us to stop. We had to choose between continuing to find out who he was or getting access to his tips.”

“And you went with the tips,” Alexander finished. 

“We fact checked what we could of his information at the beginning, but at this point we just treat him as another informant who we trust implicitly.”

“We can’t even find any patterns in the information either,” Bel added. “No pattern to the topic nor to the regularly, or lack thereof, with which he sends along these info drops. It makes no sense but we have stopped questioning it.”

“Right.” He took a deep breath. “I had better start on this then.”

  
  


A few weeks passed where nothing eventful happened. There were small missions running, but they generally did not require Q’s assistance. The few double-ohs that were deployed were on undercover missions so they preferred no communication. Q was left to spend time tinkering in the lab.

He had always thought his first love was journalism and journalism alone. But since he started working in Q branch, he remembered how much he enjoyed the couple engineering classes he had taken in school. They had exercised a different side of his brain while still having the element of problem-solving that he craved.

He was able to do light coding in his office while he watched “The Hour” and was glad to see they used his information well. He wished he could tell Bel, but it was safer this way. According to his original contract, he wasn’t supposed to have any contact with his past life except for Bel. In this, his anonymity protected him and his job above anything else. Reasonably, he had proven himself as a valuable quartermaster and he didn’t think he would lose his job if M found out, but the system worked.

It was a Thursday when the state of calm was interrupted.

“Q?” R asked over the intercom system within Q branch.

“I’m in lab twenty four,” he responded, moving away from the giant whiteboard. “What is it?”

“There is a situation developing and I think we will need you.” She sounded worried.

“Where are you?”

“Video conference room.”

“I’ll be right there.” He saved his work on the board and wiped it. He shut his laptop and slid in his bag before hurrying upstairs. He quietly opened the door to the video conference room and slipped inside. The large screen in front of him showed a similar room to the one he was in, with the head of MI5 and a couple of his staff behind them. One of the technicians handed him a headset.

“We aren’t sure of all the specifics yet, but we will be taking lead on this,” the head of MI5 was saying. 

“So why is it that you need us?” M asked. 

“We need your quartermaster. My technicians have been working on the problem, however my head of boffins,” O gestured to the middle aged man standing slightly behind him, “says yours is the best.”

“I’m flattered, Ghost,” Q said with a satisfied grin and all eyes snapped to him. 

“It’s just G,  _ Quintessence _ ,” the man teased in return, with more than a touch of exasperation in his voice. “I’ve told you that is not what it stands for.”

“And I’ll stop the day you stop making my firewalls a challenge for your new hires.” He rolled his eyes at G’s unrepentant grin. “But what is it you need my fingers for?”

“Hacking into Lord Blackwell’s computer to figure out where his family is being held and what he is being forced to do,” G explained as if that made everything clear. Q blinked and shook his head slightly.

“No, sorry. Start from the beginning?”

The head of MI5 explained that Lord Blackwell had recently gotten word to an old friend who used to work at Five that his family was being held hostage and he was being forced to do things. Apparently they met for lunch regularly and Lord Blackwell was able to slip him a note on a napkin. They suspect that there is some form of monitoring on his computer and maybe on his person, but they haven’t been able to detect anything.

“Our people are currently trying to investigate the family’s disappearance without letting it be known that we know something is wrong.”

“But that is not yielding anything is it?” Q guessed. 

“My team is working on searching airport security footage now in case they left the country, but nothing has turned up yet.” G tapped on his tablet for a second and flicked something in the direction of the screen. A few faces popped up on their screen. “These are the latest pictures we have of the family.” The family was a small one, a mother and a daughter who looked to be about ten years old.

“What about the child’s school?” R asked. “Haven’t they noticed the daughter’s absence?”

“That’s why we think some form of computer surveillance is involved. The schoolteacher told us that she had received an email from the mother saying that they would be out of the country for two weeks and asking to forward any assignments so that she would not fall behind. I ran it though some language analyzing programs and they all indicate that this email was also written by Lady Blackwell.”

“So we know at least one of the people involved with the kidnapping has computer skills as well as some brains.”

“Exactly.”

“What happens after the two weeks?”

“We don’t know,” O responded. “But the email was sent nine days ago so we are running out of time. Can you work together with G on this?”

“Of course,” Q responded. He then spoke directly to his counterpart. “I’ll be on QN 847 to share information. I’ll put a team on it right away and help where I’m needed.” G nodded in acknowledgment. “Is there anything else you need from me, M?” His boss shook his head no and so Q returned the headset and proceeded to the basement. He assembled a small team of his best hackers and gave them the relevant details. They were in a smaller secure room specifically designed for large scale hacking.

Five computers sat side by side on an countertop, bar stools in front of each one though it was also a good height to stand and type if one prefered. There was a large screen on the wall they were facing onto which their screens were projected. 

Currently it showed six screens, the last being G, who had linked into their private network and was helping from his end. There was a speaker in the room so they could speak with G if needed, but they had no need. Everyone in the room had worked with Q before on hacking missions like this and knew how he worked and how they ought to work around him. It was a seamless process. Totally coordinated and instinctual as they attacked the computer. Due to G being in MI5, they had easy access to the network at Whitehall and did not have to battle that.

From there it was simple to triangulate the position of computer signals overlaid onto a three dimensional map of the building to find which computer belonged to Lord Blackwell. The harder part was dividing and conquering once they had. G had point, hunting for the enemy in the code, while Q hid their presence. The other four split off to look for what unusual activity there was on the computer in the last few days, possible malicious programs, access to the video feed, and anything on Lord Blackwell himself that might tell them why he was being targeted. 

They gained access to the video card first. Q switched the display of the monitor to be split between the video of Lord Blackwell sitting at his desk and a video of what was showing on his computer screen at the moment. You could hear the sound of typing fingers slow down as they all stared at the image before them. 

The Lord Blackwell was looking distressed and worried. For good reason too. In front of him, as a constant reminder, was a video feed in the lower right corner of his monitor showing his wife and child, tied up, in harsh sunlight coming in from a window, sitting with their backs against a cold concrete wall. One of the people to Q’s right swore under his breath.

“Agreed,” G said over the speaker. “Hang on, my boss needs to see this.”

“I’ll let mine know as well.” Q took his phone out of his pocket and sent a quick text to M. 

“Now that we have eyes inside, MI5 is going to attempt verbal communication,” G reported. “We have a man in position to deliver an earpiece that is discrete and will allow at least one way verbal communication. You haven’t seen any text based means of communication have you?”

“No,” Q replied after checking with the rest of his team. “Presumably they are using speakers.” A quick check registered that at the very least the speakers were turned on. “The microphone is also turned on, so you can’t have verbal communications back to HQ.”

“We figured that might be the case,” G said sadly. “The good old fashioned system of blinks and coughs ought to work though.” They said nothing more as they continued to work through Lord Blackwell’s computer. It seemed like at the very least, he was being forced to transfer money to an offshore account, a bank somewhere in the caribbean islands. Q wasn’t aware that the internet was up to speed there. If the connection could handle the secure banking, then someone had to have privately built a receiver. He left his staff to continue the computer work while he chased the money on the virtual highway. It went to the Caribbean first, then bounced to Brazil, onto Chile, onto, well, it bounced around the globe so many times that if Q wasn’t working at MI6 with access to an immense network of satellites, he wouldn’t have been able to follow it as easily as he was. It eventually ended in Saudi Arabia. The men to his left had been tracking the IP address of the connection and confirmed that the hacker was also there.

“The connection is based in Saudi Arabia,” Q informed the rest of MI5. He could hear G pass on the message while one of his staff pointed out what might be a malicious program on the computer. It looked like it might possibly fry the hard drive after the transaction was complete in order to leave no trace behind of the activities Lord Blackwell was forced to engage in. Q told her to dismantle the program as quietly as she could. And to perhaps plant a program of their own that would trace computer activity or at least record the monitor display. G returned to the microphone.

“My boss said to hang tight while our man goes in and delivers the earpiece to Blackwell. Preferably stay off the computers during that time since any interruption is bound to make the kidnappers more wary.”

“And we don’t want him to start looking into the computer connection and suddenly find us,” Q finished.

“Exactly.” Q and his staff backed out of the network, staying just inside, while they watched the monitor that showed was happening in the room. Before settling down completely, Q changed a couple of settings to allow them to hear what was going on in the room. It was mostly the sound of laboriously slow typing with a lot of mouse clicking. Then they heard the sound of a door opening and watched as Lord Blackwell’s head snapped to the side.

“Lunch delivery for you, sir,” he heard someone with a slightly cockney accent say.

“I didn’t order lunch,” Blackwell said brusquely. “You must be mistaken. Perhaps you meant 307 instead of 301. It has happened before.”

“Naw, I don’t think so. I was told to deliver this to Lord Blackwell in room 301.” They heard the sound of him setting something down on the desk out of sight from the computer camera. “The nice lady at the front desk said that she noticed you hadn’t gone out for lunch past couple days and thought you might be feeling under the weather so she sent up this soup. Chicken noodle.”

“Thank you. You may go.” The deliveryman did not leave however.

“Me mum used to make me chicken soup when I had an ear infection as a child. I never understood how putting something in your mouth would help your ear. I tried to put it in my ear but all that did was make a mess. My older brother couldn’t stop laughing when he saw that I had a noodle hanging out with my ear.” At this point Lord Blackwell was staring at the man like he was crazy. “He thought it looked like I had a worm coming out of my ear. Or that I was an alien. The kind that would be on “Doctor Who.” Anyway, enjoy your soup.” Now they heard the door close. Exactly five seconds later they heard another voice.

“Who was that?” The voice barked.

“Just someone delivering soup from the woman who works the front desk. I didn’t tell her anything,” he defended. “She just noticed that I hadn’t gone out for lunch in a while and thought I might be feeling ill. That’s all.”

“Show me.”

“What?”

“Show me what’s in the bag,” he demanded.

“All right.” Lord Blackwell leaned over and reached in the bag. Since the bag was out of sight of the webcam, they couldn’t actually see if there was anything else. He brought the soup over to the camera and open the lid, showing that there was indeed soup in there.

“And the rest of the bag?” the voice asked. 

“It’s empty.”

“Show me.” He moved the empty paper bag in front of the camera and held it up so that it covered the entire view. Q hoped this meant he was using the opportunity to slip the earpiece into his ear. A cough a minute later was the confirmation that they needed and they all let out a sigh. 

“Alright. Back into the network everyone,” Q ordered. “Let’s find out where the family is being held.” And with that, the sound of keyboard clacking once again filled the room completely. 

It was after a while, looking around on the computer for some other clues, that Q stumbled upon the potential blackmail. “I think I might have found something else on Lord Blackwell,” Q spoke up. “I don’t know if the terrorist is aware of it or not.” He flicked the information out over the small private network between the six of them. One of Q’s staff whistled in amazement.

“I didn’t realise uni cost so much over there. Why didn’t he go to a school here?”

“That was the age where it was considered more prestigious to study overseas rather than at the best schools this country has to offer. Something about bringing in the new wave of the future on the backs of the innovative new minds and newer schools.”

“Or to escape from the tabloids in this country so that you could do this,” Q added as he highlighted a few other documents. It showed the young man in an impressive number of compromising situations. No doubt many the result of fraternity dares or hazing ceremonies. It was one of the many things Q had never understood in university. He was there solely for the education, not the social aspect. It was not until they got later in the photo album that they saw the real trouble. The foolish behaviour never really stopped. There were pictures of the Lord Blackwell from as recently as last year in a seedy back alley club with scantily clad women hanging on both arms with a couple other members of his political party around him. 

“Shit.” G did not sound happy. “Hide these deeper. If the terrorist has not found these yet we need to make sure he doesn’t. This cannot get out.” Q froze for a minute.

On the one hand, of course this could not get out. Lord Blackwell was a successful and moderately well liked politician. He was supporting development in new technologies in energy and was a huge supporter of early STEM education so Q did like the guy for his policies. 

By on the other hand, this was exactly the kind of scandal he was used to sniffing out, investigating, and then revealing on live television for all the nation to see. Sure the audience of “The Hour” was small, but the big news stories got circulated. For a week after the show had gotten shut down the first time, Q wasn’t able to go to the shops without someone recognising him and wanting to tell him how brave they thought he was for finally speaking the truth. Thankfully they seemed to forget all about him and not even his neighbors recognised him when he came back from his year abroad to move the last of his possessions to his new flat. 

It would be so easy to copy the data to his hidden network before sending it on to Bel. Only, M would know exactly where the information had come from. And he was working with MI5 at the moment, whose job was to keep the peace within Britain, which meant trying to eliminate political scandals. 

“Understood.” Q began working to cover up the pictures, reminding himself that he was in espionage now, not journalism. While very similar at times, they could also be incredibly contradictory.

Thankfully, Q was pulled out of his inner musings by the location of the video feed of the family. It was in Saudi Arabia. “Transfer the data to the main network,” Q commanded as he left the smaller network. “I’ll be in command room B if you need me.” 


	15. A Rattlesnake in the Desert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the enemy is found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, another long chapter. Enjoy!

Q ran across M on his way to the command room and filled him in on their way to the larger room. They walked into the room and saw that the others had narrowed down the location of the video feed even further. They now knew what city it was in at least.

“Do we have any operatives in the area?” Q asked the room.

“Double-oh Four just finished a mission not far away,” one Q branch worker said. “We’ve got her holding in case you need her.”

“How soon could she be there?”

“Eight hours. There’s not many flights in that area.”

“Send her on her way. Do we have anyone else closer?”

“Agent Todd and a trainee could be there in four hours,” someone else offered. “But that is only if they abandon their current mission.”

“Which is?”

“Escorting an important refuge back to England.” Q pulled up the mission file for him and M to look at.

“Why are we escorting him again?” Q muttered. 

“Because he is a paranoid, millionaire, scientist and we need his money,” M replied in a dark tone that betrayed exactly what he thought of that. Q let out a huff of breath in agreement.

“But we don’t believe him to be in any real trouble?” M shook his head. “Who has been running this mission? Has there been any trouble so far, Dana?”

“None whatsoever, sir,” she replied. “It’s been very dull for all involved. Mostly just frustration with an old man who is convinced there are enemies everywhere.”

“So taking the lead agent off the mission could work?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So send Todd to Saudi Arabia and trust the trainee to get him back?” M clarified. 

Q nodded. “The trainee has good scores and this would be his last joint mission anyways. Dana, patch me into Agent Todd’s earpiece.” She quickly hit the correct keys as Q slid on his headset. She nodded to let him know he was patched in. “Agent Todd.”

“Q. To what do I owe this pleasure?” She greeted with a smile.

“We might need you. How confident are you in your trainee’s ability to complete this mission alone?”

“Wood has been excellent so far. He has hardly needed me. He certainly has more patience with the objective than I do.” Dana stifled her giggles. There had been some very entertaining rants in the evenings after they retired to hotel rooms.

“We will be deploying you immediately to take the lead in a hostage situation. Dana will continue to guide Wood but either R or myself will be running this new mission. The relevant info will be sent to your phone. Let Wood know the basics and Dana will fill him in on the rest."

"Copy that. I'll check in after I read up on the mission."

"Very good. Q out." The quartermaster began compiling a mission briefing to send to Agent Todd. As he typed up the relevant details, the team in the computer lab were getting closer and closer to an exact point of origin and as soon as they had it to within a few city blocks, he forwarded the gps coordinates to Agent Todd's phone. Within a few short minutes, Agent Todd had packed, clarified mission details with Q, and was on her way south to find the Blackwell family. Knowing that it would be a tense and potentially long situation once they arrived on scene, Q handed off coms to R. "I'll be in the gym for a short while, but after that I'll be in my office. Call if you need me."

  
  


Thankfully, no one needed him, and after some laps around the track and a cat nap, he felt much more refreshed and ready to tackle this problem. He walked back into the control room just as Agent Todd drove into the city. He did not want to know where the car had come from.

“Status update.” 

The room instantly gave him their attention.

“Agent Todd has reached the city,” R reported. “We have arranged for a room in a hotel for the afternoon.” Q cocked his head to the side. “Five wants us to wait until night time here and in Saudi Arabia.”

“O thinks that would be when their guard is down,” G spoke up from over the speaker system. “The kidnappers would not be watching the family as closely since Lord Blackwell would be sleeping and thus not watching the video feed.”

“And even terrorists need to sleep at some point,” Q finished.

“We just wish they would sleep more,” G joked and was rewarded with laughter from Q branch.

“Well, it's good to have you with us, G.” Q did always enjoy working with someone else who could keep up with him. “How far out is 004?”

“Just under four hours,” R responded. “A couple other flights experienced slight delays.”

“She will make it in time,” G added. “Five wants us to wait until at least nineteen hundred hours our time before we send them in. We have no problem with you sending out Agent Todd to do scouting though. See if there could be any other problems in the area.”

“I’ll relay the message.” Q hit the button to unmute his headset. “Agent Todd. This is Q taking over from R.”

“Hello, Q. What updates do you have for me?”

“Since Five is taking the lead on this mission, they would like us to wait until at least nineteen hundred hours London time for you to attempt to rescue the family. We have arranged a hotel room for you, the location is on your phone. Reservation under the name Lily Tyler.” Q gave R a look that said he didn’t miss the Doctor Who reference before continuing. “Double-oh Four will be joining you in the evening. Another four hours perhaps. Your job is to scout out the area while remaining inconspicuous and then Four will take the lead when you go rescue the Blackwells. I’ll be in your ear the whole time and I will do my best to be your eye in the sky if you need me.”

“Excellent. Anything I should know about how Double-oh Four works? I haven’t worked with him before.”

“He tends to opt for stealth. Sticking to the shadows and moving soundlessly. He would much rather sneak past a guard unnoticed then sneak up and kill the guard. If he seems to disappear, don’t be surprised and certainly don’t call after him.” Q thought for a moment, looking at R to see if she had anything to add. 

“On past partner missions I know Double-oh Four has left the partner to act as if they are there by themselves and serve as a distraction while he sneaks off elsewhere. So I guess don’t feel offended if he just wants you to serve as a pretty distraction.”

“Oh, I’m pretty, am I?” Todd flirted. However they were both more than used to the flirting of the double-ohs and this was weak in comparison. It wasn’t even worthy of a response. 

“Are you a very tactile person, Agent Todd?” Q asked.

“More so than some of the other agents, but less than my mum,” she replied in a straight tone, realising that flirting wasn’t going to get a reaction. 

“Keep your hands to yourself around Double-oh Four. He has been equipped with a staggering amount of poison darts over his missions and I know he keeps the ones he doesn’t return. Even a little prick can knock you out and parts of his suit are coated with the stuff.” A low whistle sounded over the headset.

“Right, so stay clear of the walking rattlesnake,” she muttered.

* * *

 

As the clock ticked over to seven o’clock, Q branch got ready for infiltration. Q and R coordinated intel about the city from Agent Todd and what webcams and other sources they had access to. The original group that had been hacking Lord Blackwell’s computer relocated to the command room and were now working on the computer of their kidnapper and hunting down his possible connections. They had, at the very least, determined that someone was paying him to do this. He seemed more than happy to. Messages had been send back inquiring if there was any other jobs he could do for them. Double-oh Four had also arrived and the two agents seemed to be getting along well. It wouldn’t be developing into a friendship of any sort, what with Todd giving the other agent a large personal bubble in order to avoid possible poisoning. Double-oh Four had also still not offered his name for Agent Todd to use. Unlike a certain agent who introduced himself to everyone, he believed that you had to earn the right to use his name. Q, of course, was one of the privileged. 

“We are ready to move into position on your command, Q.”

“Copy that, Fairbairn,” Q said. “We are awaiting word from Five.” The two agents were currently lurking in the shadows, keeping an eye on the building where they believed the family to be held. It was an older TV studio. Q thought that might prove to be how they were getting their signal to be so strong from all the way across the globe.

“You are cleared to go in,” G said into the quiet of Q branch.

“You are cleared to enter, agents,” Q relayed over his headset. Both acknowledged his command and then dropped back into radio silence. Double-oh Four slipped from the shadows first. He was silent as he prowled in the just-after-dusk light and the quickly cooling air, holding a poison dart ready to fire between his teeth. He scaled the ladder that led to the roof and then motioned for Agent Todd to follow. The second agent climbed up with a little more noise, but she was still an agent of Her Majesty's Secret Service and thus could keep quiet when the times called for it. 

With Double-oh Four leading the way, they slipped through the roof access door and into the main building. They came across very few guards as they made their way through the scattered junk littering the floor. It was mostly dry papers, but there were some canisters of old film stacked up in corners next to metal filing cabinets. A full sweep of the top floor revealed nothing. 

Moving down a level revealed the same. It was the second storey that proved fruitful. It hadn't been cleaned up so much as all the old junk had just been shoved to the sides. It had studio lighting that was lacking cobwebs, so it must have been tidied up and used recently. They saw a painted sheet hung to look like the inside of a dirty cave. Near the opposite walls were a set of newer cameras, all hooked up to a battered laptop. The computer itself had wires heading up into the ceiling, probably connected to the large antenna on the roof. 

"They definitely were filming in here," Double-oh Four broke the silence. 

"Describe it to me, I don't have eyes inside." The agents gave him their best description of where everything was in the room. 

"Is the computer turned on?" He asked. 

"It doesn't appear to be." Todd shook the mouse and hit a couple keys. "No."

"So that's not the one they are broadcasting from. We still have a connection to that one. Turn it on please." She found the power button and sat down in the chair to wait for it to turn on while the other agent continued looking around. 

"It's on but it needs a password."

"Plug in your phone to the computer and open the app called Takeover 4." She did as she was told and set the phone down. Minutes later, a password was typed into the screen and the computer was logged in. "I've got the computer now. See if Double-oh Four needs help."

"Can I unplug the phone?" she asked as her hand hovered over the cord. 

"One moment. Yes. You may unplug." Q focused on looking through the computer files and trying to figure out what this one was for if not for broadcasting. He looked at the most recently opened programs and started to feel dread settling in his stomach. 

The most often used program in the last week was Avid Studios, a video editing program. While he waited for the program to open, he looked for the most recent files. He found a folder entitled raw footage_blackwell and nearly cringed when he saw the modification date. Four days ago. 

Avid finished opening and he saw that there was raw footage taken from each day, combined to make a day long video. Many of the transitions were fake signal noise that would obscure the image long enough to not notice a change in position that was due to the footage coming from a different day. "Oh no." 

Unfortunately, this could only mean one thing. "Agents," he said. "Look for a large box or crate that you could fit a person inside." R looked up sharply, a hesitant look on her face. Q nodded and confirmed her fear.

“What is it?” G asked.

“I’d rather not say it out loud until it is confirmed,” he replied. He could already tell that if his fears were true, he might not be sleeping well tonight. 

“Q,” Double-oh Four said after a few minutes. “You may consider your fears confirmed.” 

“Copy that,” he said softly as he shut his eyes. They only remained closed for a couple seconds before he shook his head and regained the calm disposition he had as quartermaster. “Conditions of the bodies?” he asked in a straight tone.

“Awful stench. Not many visible signs of decomposition; it is rather dry here. Same clothes still on them although there are rough replicas lying in a pile near this other computer, which is on, by the way. It’s probably so that they could stage something live if they needed to. Not much effort was put into that aspect of this drama though.”

“That computer was on then when you walked in?” Q clarified. 

“Yes, it just needed a shake of the mouse.”

“What is on the screen now?” Double-oh Four walked back over to take a look. “A time zone converting website and another tab looking up places for late night takeaway.”

Q relayed this to his computer group and they confirmed that this matched with the computer they had been watching. “That’s the one they have been broadcasting from. Nice work. Back to the bodies, though. Easily transported home?”

“They are ready packed in this box. I might deliver them straight to a funeral home though before anyone else is allowed to see them. They are going to need some touch up work done.” All of the double-oh agents had a morbid sense of humor. Q could appreciate that. 

“Nothing a little makeup can’t fix, I’m sure.” They saw and dealt enough death that it was a common enough thing to joke about. He could hear Agent Todd’s noise of disgust though. 

“It seems that even though whoever did this quite obviously planned on killing the family anyway, they still took pleasure in beating them up as well. They both have bruises covering their bodies and deep cuts across the body. It appears that their faces were mostly spared the blade, but there is plenty of unnatural swelling.”

“Agent Todd, keep a lookout on the ground floor, see if there is anything else important.” Q recognized that she was becoming distressed listening to them talk about the dead bodies with such nonchalance and needed something to distract her. “Double-oh Four, estimated time of death?”

“Three days would be my best guess based on the amount of decomposition and the lack of maggots, but this is a different climate and I cannot say for sure.”

“That’s okay.” Q turned to his branch. “Timothy, see what you can arrange for transport of the bodies back to England. G?” he asked to the sky.

“I’m still here, Q.”

“What do your people know about the nature of the threat? Is he just being forced into compliance by scenes of his family or is there something more?”

“As far as we are aware, it is just that his family might be hurt. But clearly there must be some form of a back up plan.”

“Can you get agents in his office to look for anything while everyone is sleeping?”

“Everyone but us, Q,” G muttered. “I can talk to O and get that going.”

“Double-oh Four,” Agent Todd said over the earpiece. “There are people approaching. If we want to remain undetected we will want to head out. There’s nothing worth seeing on the lower level that wasn’t on the second floor. They only tried to make it look more like an abandoned storehouse.”

“Retreat for the night, agents,” Q ordered. “No activity until we know that Lord Blackwell will not be harmed for our actions.” The agents confirmed his order and retreated back the way they came. They watched from the roof as the seven men and two women laughed and joked with each other and walked inside. Agent Todd was suddenly handed a grenade by her companion.

“Stay up here with this in case I need a distraction,” he told her before melting into the night. Q only sighed as he realised the Double-oh agent was going back in there alone. It wasn’t really surprising.

“Do you at least still have you camera, Fairbairn?” he asked.

“Of course,” came the reply. “I’m not Bond. I look after the equipment you give me.”

“I never said you were. I don’t think he would ever consent to a mission in a dry country.”

“No way,” Double-oh Four laughed. “Going quiet now.” The agent was back inside and was now close enough to hear the talking of the terrorist group. They were speaking Arabic so 004 could not tell what they were saying, but he was able to pick out a few words. Food. Two days. Oil. Nothing useful unfortunately. He crept closer and pulled out his camera. The low light setting combined with the powerful zoom allowed him to capture good images of the faces. The images were uploaded directly to Q branch and they confirmed that the images were of good quality. One of the minions immediately began running them through their database to see if any of them were known criminals.

“You are good, Double-oh four. Head back and return tomorrow.” The agent didn’t respond, but Q could see his tracker move back to the roof. He waited until they were safely back in the hotel before transferring them to the night staff and getting a driver to take him home.

* * *

The next day arrived far too early for someone who had had a restless night, but the quartermaster was back in the office at nine o’clock sharp, much to the displeasure of some of his staff who tutted like mother hens. Not that he could get angry and protest that he could take care of himself when he had a track record that indicated otherwise. And he did have a ground rule of not angering anyone who regularly brought him muffins and tea.

He set up his computer in his office and saw a message from the head of MI5. He opened that first.

 

_ Quartermaster, _

_ My agents have found no ways that the terrorists would be able to exact any punishment on Lord Blackwell so your agents are free to proceed as you feel best. Lord Blackwell knows that he should disregard the video but he does not know that his family is dead. G has the lead on our side of this mission so you can both coordinate if necessary. _

_ O. _

 

After checking for other pertinent emails, Q walked back into the main room and slid on his headset. He called up G and got a detailed report on what progress had been made and they talked about how they wanted to proceed as Q approved some new weapon designs to move on to the next stage of production. They agreed that it would be best to tell Lord Blackwell to continue to play along with the threats for today and leave Todd and Fairbairn to watch the building for extra suspicious activities and not act until nightfall. No matches for the faces had popped up in the databases they had first tried, so the pictures of the terrorists were just up on the wall for anyone else to grab and run through a database of their choosing if they were procrastinating. 

It looked like it would be a productive day for Q. He continued to have G in his ear and they enjoyed being able to talk about the crazy things their respective staff were working on. 

One of the staff in research and development at Five was working on a new way of coding messages using optical polarizers. If each agent had a specific polarizer then a message could be sent to them with another agent who had a different polarizer keyed to that specific agent. Hold them both up to a white screen and the crossed polarizers would cancel out light everywhere except for where the letters would appear. 

The issue was it would be incredibly expensive to produce such precisely controlled polarizers and to produce them fast enough so that the message would not be outdated by the time it was ready to be delivered. It would be incredibly hard for the enemy to decrypt, so that was a bonus, but right now it still seemed impractical.

“No matter how amazing it is, the leeches in accounting keep reminding me that we are close to meeting our budget for the year,” G complained.

Q scoffed. “Close to? Bond had a mission in March and after that we were over our budget for the year. I’m starting to think we need to start an entire branch dedicated to retrieval of gadgets by our agents. Even retrieving the cars he leaves behind would save us thousands of pounds. It’s easier to fix than to buy new and have to modify all over again. But instead all our work is at the bottom of rivers around the world."

"I would have thought that you would have some priority for retrieving your prototypes. Like your biometric print guns."

"There is some, but it is not a quick process. And the water works fast on electronics."

"That is too true. I need to get you to design some waterproofing tech for my branch since all our agents are in British weather." 

Q laughed and they continued brainstorming way past lunch. 

It wasn't actually until a bored agent wandered into Q branch that any progress was made on the Blackwell case. 

He sauntered in as usual, looking to see if there were any new prototypes to test, when he paused in front of the pictures of the terrorists up on the wall. He furrowed his brow.

"Where are these pictures from?" he asked. Q left his computer and walked over to stand next to him. 

"These are the pictures Double-oh Four took of the group who kidnapped Lord Blackwell's family." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Why?"

"That one," Bond pointed to the woman in the top row "is the wife of the CEO of an oil company. A rival of the one Mr. Miller was employed by." Q raised his brows. 

"You've actually been doing your research. Colour me impressed."

"I'm offended. I am a professional."

"So what is the company called?"

"Pakistani Petroleum."

"Check on their employee database," Q clicked his fingers and his staff immediately jumped to action. It took hardly any time before someone had a name to put with a face. The agent and quartermaster walked over to see the screen. Sure enough, there was now a name with the face, albeit a nicer looking face. Running the other images through that same employee database revealed that all of the individuals involved in the kidnapping were employees of Pakistani Petroleum in one capacity or another. 

“And do you think they might have similar motivations for wanting to threaten Lord Blackwell?” Q asked. “He is well known as a supporter of science and is publicly supporting a new bill to refine how companies use oil.”

“It is definitely more discreet than trying to bomb a demonstration,” the agent agreed. “If they change the mind of a public face then the common people will begin to doubt as well. Doubt creates fear and people fall back on the old ways. It makes sense and does not give his company bad press if no one can trace it back to him.”

“And we can’t immediately act on our data as if it were an underground criminal. It would be suspicious if he turned up dead for no apparent reason. We are going to need proof.” Q put his hands on his hips and wrinkled his nose in displeasure. He shook his head. “Why did you come in here?”

“I wanted to see if you had anything new for me to help test,” the agent said with a grin.

Q rolled his eyes and strode back to his computer. “You got antsy, didn’t you? The big bad secret agent can't stand to stay seated at his desk for more than a few hours before he needs to run off and shoot some guns," he said with the dry tone he was known for. A couple people within earshot giggled at that. Bond ignored them as he followed Q to his desk. 

"This from the quartermaster who is always walking around his branch, checking on projects that he could easily look into from his computer. The same quartermaster who hardly ever sits in his chair at his desk despite how comfortable it is?"

"Why were you sitting in my office chair?"

"You weren't using it," the agent smirked. Q rolled his eyes, but let him know where he could be useful. He then returned to collaborating with MI5. They decided that Lord Blackwell would continue pretending everything was normal for the remainder of the day. At night the agents would steal the bodies of the Blackwells.

It would be the next day that things would change. It was that next day when Lord Blackwell remained at home. An MI5 agent remained with him just to reassure him that no harm would come to him, and to protect him in case any tried to. In his place they sent an agent to his office to speak with Lord Blackwell’s superior instead. They would keep him distracted while Q sent his agents into the complex to get proof of the scheme. It was a great plan. If it went flawlessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget that if you are part of 007 Fest you can get points for commenting on this! It brightens my day when I see your lovely comments.


	16. Never Know What Him Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit from the Q Branch outpost.

A phone call to their room woke the agents in the morning. Double-oh Four was the first to grab the phone. “Yes?”

“There is someone at the front desk asking to speak with you,” the lady at the front desk said in accented English. “He says his name is Jeremy Quickthorn.” Double-oh Four grinned. 

“Send him up.” He went into the bathroom to quickly splash his face and took a swig of water to wash the dry feeling out of his mouth. Agent Todd rolled out of bed and ran a brush through her hair in order to tie it back. A knock sounded on the door. Heel of the hand. Heel of the hand. Knuckles. Heel again. A Q for Q branch. Clever. He opened the door to a short man with light brown hair that was beginning to gray. “Quickthorn?” he asked the man with a raised bow.

“There aren’t that many names that begin with Q before it starts to sound ridiculous,” he huffed as he closed the door behind him. “But you can just call me Jeremy.” He held out his hand and they shook.

“Double-oh four. And that is Agent Todd.” 

“Good morning,” she greeted.

“Yes. A good morning indeed. I was chosen to be sent out in the field.”

“And what has our esteemed quartermaster sent our way?”

“Right.” He dug in the computer bag he had brought with him. He first pulled out a thick silver laptop that he set up on the small breakfast table. This was followed by a large ring with a raven on it and an assortment of the small security cameras that Q branch had developed a few years ago. They hadn’t been seen in the main branch of MI6 for nearly ten years, but evidently the outpost branches still found uses for them.

“These I know you have not used in a long time, but our station has been developing them further. Completely wireless now and stream directly to our servers. No power supply other than batteries so they don’t last forever, but after sticking them on the wall, just a firm press will do, they start recording and will continue for forty eight hours. No way to restart them after that unless they are brought back to our branch and plugged directly into the home pod. So it is no worry if they are left behind and found. There is no way they could be connected back to us.”

Agent Todd had picked up one of the cameras and was admiring it appreciatively. “You just stick it to the wall with a firm push and that’s it?” She bounced it in the palm of her hand while Jeremy flinched and tried to refrain from snatching it back. “It’s surprisingly light.”

“Yes, and also breakable, so if you could refrain from playing with it,” he glared, “that would be much appreciated.”

“Sorry.” She set the camera back down on the table.

“This is a ring that will inject a subdermal tracker into the skin. Deliver a good solid punch and we will be able to track the signal for two weeks. Unfortunately it gets too weak to detect after that, but it isn’t bad for something injected with a ring.”

“Not bad at all.” Double-oh Four slid the ring on his finger and admired it. “So what was Q thinking the plan was?”

“I think you will like this one,” Jeremy smiled. “It’s an oldie, but a goodie.”

* * *

 

 

Double-oh Four stumbled in the late afternoon sun. He leaned against the side of a building and panted. 

“They are a minute away from you. Approaching from the next street down,” Jeremy informed him as he watched the closed circuit cameras he had hacked into from the hotel room. 

“Copy that,” he responded, his voice perfectly steady despite the panting breath and the tear streaks on his face. He looked like an emotional wreck who would have been drunk if not for the strict alcohol ban in the country. He stumbled down the street further and rounded the corner just as the group of kidnappers approached the corner. The collision was inevitable and Double-oh Four was knocked back to the ground. One of the other men would have fallen if not for the human wall behind him that supported him. 

“Hey!” the agent shouted as he surged back up to his feet. “Watch where you are going! Some people don’t have their own group of people to fall back on.” He choked back a sob. “Get out of my way, you bastards.” He moved to shove them out of the way, but rough hands grabbed him back. 

“Watch who you are calling bastards,” one of the men growled. 

“Let go of me!” Double-oh Four shouted and weakly tried to punch them. This only angered the men more and a brawl broke out. There were punches flying and many shins being kicked. Insults were shouted in Arabic, English, and some Spanish also thrown in for good measure. 

“Rupert! Rupert stop!” a new voice called out. Agent Todd frantically ran toward the group of brawling men and hauled Double-oh Four out. He fought in her grip, but she held him firmly. “I’m so sorry,” she frantically apologized to the other group. A couple of them were sporting some thin cuts and one of them appeared to be developing a bloody nose. “He’s had a really rough day. He only just found out his wife was killed in a car accident back home and he can’t get a flight back home for another day,” she rambled on. “He ran off after he got the call and I couldn’t find him and I’m so sorry if he hurt you. He isn’t usually like this. Like I said, I’m awfully sorry.”

“We understand,” one of the women in the group came to her rescue and laid an understanding hand on her arm. “It’s always hard to lose a loved one. Take him back home and get him to rest. This whole incident will be forgotten. Won’t it?” She whipped around, hands sternly on her hips, and challenged the men behind her. They nodded and murmured that it was forgiven.

“Thank you so much for understanding,” Agent Todd gushed, placing her other hand over the woman’s. “I will get him to bed right away.” She supported Double-oh Four’s body weight on her shoulders. “Come on now, Rupert. Let’s head back to the hotel now.” They slowly started back away from the group, in the direction of a hotel that was not theirs. They walked like that for a few blocks before Agent Todd judged that they were far enough away. “Did it work?” she whispered.

“Indeed it did,” the other agent grinned in return, holding up the hand with the ring triumphantly. “They didn’t know what hit them. Or rather, what else hit them.”

“And you weren’t hurt too badly?” She raked her eyes over him and searched for signs of injury. He looked down the street and up at the buildings to see if there was anyone watching. Seeing no one, he straightened up and grinned. 

“They hardly touched me. I’m not a Double-oh for nothing.”

“Alright, if you have finished gloating,” Jeremy said in their ears, “you can return to the room and plan out the best places to put the cameras.”


	17. Not A Good Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game is up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for torture if you are very sensitive. No blood and it is very obvious when it starts. It then continues to the end of the chapter.

Agent Palmera from MI5 entered Lord Blackwell’s room in Whitehall and approached the desk from behind, sliding a clip over the webcam so that the person on the other end could not see him. He waited patiently at the desk, playing idly on his phone, for the other end of the connection to realise something was different. 

“The other computer is now logged on,” G informed his agent over the headset. “He should notice you any minute now.” As he finished saying this, a thick accent came over the speakers.

“What have you done? Uncover the camera this instant or your family will be punished for your disobedience!”

“That would be awfully difficult since you do not have my family,” the agent replied calmly. There was a surprised silence from the other end.

“You are not Blackwell.”

“No, I am not.”

“Who are you then?” the voice replied angrily.

“Who I am is irrelevant. All you need to know is that we have seen through your ruse. The game is over.”

“There is no ruse. Now leave and bring back Blackwell unless you want his family harmed. Since you obviously care about him, I’m sure you care about his family as well,” he sneered. “His wife is quite beautiful for a westerner.”

“That ruse. The family is dead. They have been dead for a few days now. You hold no leverage against Lord Blackwell.”

“You have no proof of that.”

“We have the video footage and a good team of technical experts who were able to recognise that it has been edited. They wish me to pass on their compliments for hiding the transitions using static. It would have been believable if not for the clear picture the rest of the time. They were able to piece together raw footage that would have only been recorded over a few days.” Not entirely truthful, but they were dealing with a terrorist. “The family must be dead by now.”

“Even if you are correct,” the voice returned after a moment. He sounded less sure of himself now. “You still cannot trace me. I will do this again.”

“Once again you are mistaken. I may not know where you or the bodies of the Blackwells are located, but I do know one very important thing.” The agent paused and leaned closer to the microphone of the computer. “I know you have underestimated the British, Direnc Solak.” The voice on the other end couldn’t quite cover his noise of shock that they knew his name. He tried to cover it up and deny any familiarity with the name, but he was not believed. “We will find you,” the agent interrupted his protesting. “And you won’t see it coming.” With a firm pull of the computer plug, the connection was severed.

“Nicely done, agent,” G congratulated. “Please pack up the computer and report to Technical Services before your debriefing.”

“Copy that. Over and out.”

* * *

 

 

Direnc Solak was not having a good day. He had logged onto the computer in the afternoon a few hours after after Blackwell usually arrived in his office. He wasn’t a heartless man. Lord Blackwell couldn’t spend his entire day slaving for him even though he was being watched the entire time. As a leader in his own business he understood that work must continue, even if your family is under threat. Besides, if Blackwell suddenly started slacking in performance, someone would notice and his game would be up.

Except then he found out he had been discovered. He didn’t know who by. They had blocked the view from the camera so he couldn’t see the person’s face. They had bragged about having a technical service who had noticed his video editing though, so it must be a group. Perhaps the government had noticed after all. 

He then went to get rid of the bodies of the two Blackwells only to discover that the box was no longer there. There were drag marks, though, so he followed. They led him to the old studio room where they had shot all of the footage before disposing of the family. The studio lights were off but there was enough late afternoon sun coming through from the high windows to allow him to see that the box was still there. He hurried over and looked inside.

It was empty.

Actually, as he looked closer he realised it wasn’t even the same box. It smelled only of dust and contained no traces of blood like he knew the other one would.

Abruptly, the studio lights all flooded on at once and in his sudden blindness he was knocked unconscious.

He came to with a groan. He tried to stretch, but something wouldn’t let him. He blinked his eyes open and slammed them shut again almost as quickly. The harsh studio lights were still on. He fought against the intensity and got his eyes open enough to see that there were chains restraining him to a chair in front of the camera. "I see you are awake." He looked around, but couldn't see who was speaking. 

"Where are you?" he demanded. "Who are you?"

"Your worst nightmare."  Double-oh Four slipped out from a shadow and walked around to stand behind him. "Smile for the camera now," he whispered in his ear. He looked forward and sure enough, the camera was set up and the little light showed that it was recording. 

"What do you want with me?"

"I want you to tell me why you needed all that money transferred to you."

"Why would I tell you?" he spat. 

"No reason at all," the agent said lazily as he walked around to a small table with a collection of thin needles. "No reason at all if you don't value your motor neuron system." He picked up one of the thin needles with his long fingers and inspected it as he walked back over to Solak. “You see, these needles have a paralytic coating on the tip of them. One or two won’t do you any harm, maybe some tingling in your fingers and toes. Just like frostbite. But a few more and your muscles will stop responding. I could stop of course. You would regain movement within a few days, soon it will be as if it never happened.” 

Double-oh four was once again behind him and he couldn’t help but gasp as he felt a needle being jabbed into his neck. He panted as he tried to control his heartbeat. He remembered in the back of his mind that poison spread faster through the body if your heart rate was elevated. He needed to calm down. “But if I use enough of them,” the other man continued as he grabbed a handful of needles and held them lightly in his fist. “Then I’m afraid you will suffer paralysis for the rest of your life. You can only pray for death.” Another needle was pulled from the bunch and held up to his cheek.

“Now I will ask you again, what was all of the money for?”

“What money are you talking about?” 

“The money you were forcing Lord Blackwell to transfer for you.” Solak blinked in surprise. He had thought this might have been about something else. 

“I just needed it to make a point. I have plenty of money.”

“And what point is that?” the agent asked as he straightened. 

“I can’t have him leading the West on a search for new energies that could destroy the world,” he scoffed. “Haven’t you seen what these new sciences are doing to the world? They are destroying the fine old establishments like this.” He would have gestured to the room if his hands hadn't been tied. A pause and the agent’s mouth quirked up in a half smile. 

“Certain powerful individuals would disagree with you on that point.” He dragged the needle along the back of the man’s neck, leaving a thin mark. “That was for him,” the agent whispered. “So you would threaten Lord Blackwell just because he supports the funding of new scientific research? What does that gain?”

“Well, he’s the leader and when the leader falls, the rest fall like stones in an avalanche.”

“And you would know about that wouldn’t you? I wonder what would happen to your company if the CEO never came back from his little vacation?” The captive looked a little more harried now.

“I’m cooperating, you don’t need to threaten any more,” he pleaded. 

“Whose idea was it to kidnap and threaten the Blackwell family?”

“Mine,” he said quickly.

“Lies.” Double-oh Four stabbed the man in the forearm with a needle. He cried out in pain. 

“I swear, it was my idea!” Another needle. This time the other arm, closer to the wrist. “Okay okay, it was my coworker's idea too.”

“Who?”

“Not telling.” He screamed as another needle was pressed in between his ribs. 

“It won’t be long before you can’t move your fingers now,” the Double-oh reminded him. “You might want to start answering the questions again.”

“Bohan. On my board of directors. She was the one who had the idea first to threaten someone in Whitehall.”

“Very good,” 004 leered. “And who decided the Blackwell mother and child were better off dead?”

“Cetin. He did the editing and convinced us that it wasn’t worth the bother of keeping them alive.”

“Also on your board of directors?”

“Yes. Goddamn it yes. Now can I go?” A low chuckle came from the agent. 

“I don’t think I’m done with you yet. What is the money really for?”

“I told you. It was just to make a point. I have a successful company.”

“If your company was so successful, you wouldn’t need to be afraid of a little competition. I’ve seen your financial reports.” He paused and looked at Solak like a predator eying his prey. “The undoctored ones. The ones that show your company is losing more than it is making.”

“It’s just a temporary set back. We can’t release those or else we will lose contracts.” Another stab of a needle. This time into his ankle. 

“This temporary setback has been going on for a few years now. Ever since the mysterious payments started. Large sums of cash going missing.”

“I had nothing to do with that,” he denied, but was cut off by his own gasp of pain as another needle was jabbed into his upper thigh. 

“These stacks of cash happened to go missing right around the same time as your rival company started to gain on your profits. I’m sure it is just a coincidence though.”

“A coincidence! Exactly! Ow!” he yelped as another needle was forced under his skin. “What do you want to know?”

“Are you working for someone else?” Direnc Solak froze, this time not as the result of a needle. He could give up the names of the people who answered to him in the company. What would they possibly be able to do to him? He controlled their paychecks. But he answered to  _ them _ .

“I can’t tell you anything,” he said firmly. He closed his eyes and tensed for another stab, yet he did not feel one. 

“Can’t or won’t?” the other man hissed in his ear. 

“Won’t. Do your worst. I answer to them, not you.” He tried not to, but he could not contain the howls of pain as more needles were stuck in him as he refused to answer question after question. Finally the man paused. He walked back over the the side table and laid down the remaining couple needles he had left in his hands. He instead picked up a thicker one that Solak had not noticed before. It had a delicate white feather coming out of the blunt end. 

“You answer to your gods and I answer to mine,” Double-oh Four said as he stabbed the final needle into Direnc Solak’s heart. “Be grateful mine has chosen a quick death for you.”


	18. Sipping Red Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Q may not be a great secret agent, but in some respects he is better than Bond.

“Miss Rowley?” one of the interns asked as they knocked on her doorframe.

“Come in.” Bel set down the newspaper she was reading and leaned back in her comfortable desk chair; the young brunette sat opposite. “How can I help you?”

“Actually, I think I could help you. A classmate of mine was at that press conference everyone is talking about. The one with the mystery reporter. She remembered she had taken a bunch of pictures on her phone, first time in the field and all that, and some of them had people in in it. I mentioned the mystery reporter to her over lunch and she sent me this picture.” The young girl slid her pink phone across the desk. Bel picked up the phone and looked at the picture.

It was just a quick picture of a cool sculpture in the lobby of the hotel. But there were also people walking past. “She said that one there is the man who was from The Minute. She was a bit enamored with him,” she huffed. “Cute, but I know she has a girlfriend.”

Bel zoomed in on the face of the man she had pointed to. Without a doubt she knew it was her Freddie. It didn’t matter how out of focus he was. “I might know someone who could enhance this,” she said carefully, handing the phone back. “Could you email this to me, Kelsey?”

“Of course.” She stood up with a grin. She was overjoyed that Miss Rowley knew her name. “Anything else you’d like me to do?”

“Just keep this between us for now. I don’t want to get people’s hopes up.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Thank you.” Bel returned to reading the article on a new club opening in Soho, but wasn’t able to concentrate as she waited for the email of the picture to come through. As soon as it arrived, she copied it over to her personal account and composed a quick email.

 

_ From a young reporter’s phone. She apparently thinks you are a brilliant journalist. My intern says you may have turned her straight. _

 

It hardly took a minute before she got a response.

 

_ That’s a new one. It’s a good thing you aren’t overly possessive. Whose phone is this on? _

 

_ It’s saved on my intern, Kelsey Johnston’s phone but she got it from a friend who was at the press conference. A current classmate of hers. No name. _

 

_ I’ve got one of my staff on it. Thanks Moneypenny. _

 

_ No problem. I don’t think anyone else would have been able to identify you. You have changed in five years. I am just lucky enough to see you all the time. _

 

_ Speaking of which, I don’t know if I’ll make it home for dinner tonight. Loads of ridiculous paperwork due tomorrow and we have to entertain visitors from the military in the afternoon. _

 

_ Finish it on time and you’ll have roast turkey and yorkshire pudding waiting for you at home. _

 

_ You know the best way to my heart. I’ll delegate everything I can. _

 

Bel laughed as she read the last email. She could picture the exact way his brow furrowed as his pen flew across the page. But speaking of work, she had her own work to get done if she would make it in time to pick up a roast turkey from Waitrose before he got home.

When he did get home, he burst through the door in an overly dramatic fashion and loudly declared “my minions shall worship my great name forever more, for today I have managed to convince accounts that testing explosives is a necessary and vital part of our job and will henceforth be covered in our new, expanded budget!” She laughed and applauded as he closed the door behind him and hung up his coat and scarf. 

“As long as you don’t burn off that wonderful head of hair you know I love,” she laughed and ruffled said head of hair. 

“My dear Moneypenny, I’m always careful.”

“You say that every time, James, and look how it turns out.” He laughed as well.

“I still cannot believe I managed that one.” He threw himself onto the couch and then flipped over so that he could still see her above the armrest. “I must be getting better at lying, no matter what Bond says. Or at least at making up believable stories.”

“You aren’t good at lying on the spot, but given the proper time to gather evidence, no matter how thin that evidence is, you can spin a fantastic tale and make people believe you. It’s all in those gorgeous green eyes of yours and that trusting face.”

“So what about this turkey I have been thirsting for all day?” he said, fighting down the blush and trying to steer the conversation. She saw right through that, but let him lead. 

“It should be done any minute. If you help by getting plates and stuff out it will be in our mouths that much faster.” In a mess of lanky limbs he rolled off the sofa and onto his feet, already grabbing the plates before he regained his balance completely. 

Next thing you know, they had finished dinner and were sipping a red wine in front of the telly. Nothing on, just staring into space and thinking. Bel let her head rest on his shoulder. A picturesque image of domestic family life. Something neither of of them really thought they had, but they were happy so long as they had it, whatever it was, together.


	19. Station T for Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bond is reminded of how much Q does for him.

The next Monday, an excited Miss Moneypenny greeted Q as he walked into the branch. He motioned for her to follow him as he continued to his office to set up for the day. He would check in with Bond, who had been dispatched to Station T last week and was leading the infiltration team there. He also had to look over the new art submissions for the Q branch wallpaper, although he was looking forward to seeing those. He powered up his laptop and then turned his full attention to the ball of energy in front of him.

“Good morning, Eve,” he greeted cordially. “What has you so excited?”

“Have. You. Seen the pictures from Station T of Bond?” she asked, the excitement clear in the rush of her words and the higher than normal pitch of her voice. 

“No,” he drawled. “I actually didn’t do any work at all this weekend. Should I be worried? Take this as a sign that I really ought to be formally married to the job?”

“Oh no,” she reassured him hastily. “Nothing of the sort. But they were trying to figure out which job position they ought to put Bond in. They had a few options before they saw him in person and really once you look at him you know which ones fit, but the gods were smiling on us because they decided to dress him in each of the uniforms and take pictures just to decide.”

“I know a chauffeur was a possibility since I had suggested that one, but I can’t recall the others if they ever told me.”

“Has your computer booted up yet? I emailed them all to you.” Q looked down to see that the computer was ready and waiting for his passcode. He quickly typed it in and opened his email. 

“A slideshow?” He looked back up at Moneypenny. “Could you not have found something more fun or even useful to do with your time this weekend, Eve?”

He saved some of the more embarrassing ones on the Q branch servers for his staff to photoshop when they were bored and then shoved Eve out of his office after determining that she had nothing else for him. Today was his day to test firearms and he wanted to get started right away. It was a good thing to focus his mind and empty it of all the unnecessary junk. The focus needed to aim tended to then loosen up some other thoughts and helped him work out puzzles. Maybe he should make a crossword shooting game to play. Shoot the letter and then the correct box. He made a note on his document of random ideas and went off to collect his stash of firearms.

Much to Q’s surprise, Bond called him later that afternoon. He saw the notification on his laptop while he was down in the shooting range and routed it through his bluetooth since his phone was back in his office.

“Q speaking.”

“Hello, Q,” he heard the agent say.

“You sound a bit harried. What’s the matter?”

“I know that I don’t seem to appreciate you and the work that you do sometimes, but I think I didn’t realise how much planning you do.” Q set down the gun he was currently tinkering with to better concentrate on his agent.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you sent me to lead this team that was going to infiltrate the oil company, but I didn’t expect to be doing all the planning. Sure the station had gathered valuable intel already and they had installed a couple agents in the company, but they didn’t seem to know what to do with me.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “You did tell them to expect a Double-oh agent, right?”

“Yes.”

“What part of a Double-oh agent makes someone think that a cafeteria worker would be a good disguise? Not even a cook, I could perhaps understand that on the basis on poisonability, but a waiter? Are you laughing?”

“No,” Q replied. Laughing. Q didn’t need a camera to know that Bond was glaring at the wall. “Poisonability isn’t a word. And I’m picturing you as a waiter in a little sixties restaurant and you must admit that is a funny image.”

“Funny sure, however, this is a mission. What a tremendous waste of time. It feels more like they’re playing dress-up.”

“They definitely were,” Q said. “Someone at that station knows Eve and we got the pictures this morning. At least your undercover disguise doesn’t seem any more elaborate than your normal wear.”

“True. And I don’t have to hide the fact that I’m armed. Although the gun on my belt will not be the one you made for me.”

“Good. That might’ve been a little suspicious.”

“Agreed.” There was silence on the line before Q broke it.

“Why did you call?” He asked. “Was it just to complain?”

“Let’s think of it more as a chance to tell you how much of a genius you are.”

“You’re such a flatterer. But thank you.” It was rare that Bond told him so explicitly that he appreciated the work that Q did. Being a man of action meant that he usually showed his appreciation by stealing the gadgets that Q made for him or just taking the time to wander by the lab before he left for the day. There had to be something else. “All right. What am I missing? What you need me to do?”

“Who said I needed you to do anything?”

“For a spy, you can be really obvious sometimes.”

“Okay. I would like to know if you could look up the wife of the CEO of the Golden Oil.” Bond was all business now. “I passed her and her husband in the hallway today while I was being shown the basic layout and being instructed where I do not have clearance to go. Something about her felt off.”

“In what way?” Q asked. He wiped the gunpowder residue off his hands and opened up his laptop to pull up her LinkedIn profile.

“Nothing I can put my finger on. Just something my instincts are telling me. She is hiding something.”

“Alright. I’m on it. I’m just scratching the surface at the moment, but she is the head of the  company's financial division. Nothing immediately suspicious there. She has degrees from respectable German universities. She has worked her way up through the ranks in finance and changed her relationship status a couple of years before she rose to head, so she wasn’t just a promotion of convenience or of favor.” Q continued scanning the website, but didn’t see anything else that immediately stuck out to him. “Is there something in particular you think I should look for?”

“Nothing at the moment.” He scrubbed at his face with his other hand. “Are you available if I think of something more specific later?”

“I thought you were reporting directly to Station T?”

“I thought so too, but no one has mentioned anything. They expect me to know everything and I’m good at planning for myself and anticipating the enemy, but you are far better at bigger picture planning.”

“Go to their Q branch and request a earpiece connected to Azra,” Q said as he opened up his email. “I’ve worked with her before. She should be able to get some information for you quickly and ought to be able to walk you through schematics and things if you encounter any issues. I’ll let her know you are on your way.”

“It’s way past sundown here, Q.”

“And when have you ever seen Q branch empty, Double-oh Seven?” Q challenged. “Yes, Azra might not be there, but someone can get you an earpiece and make sure it is set up tonight so that you do not have to stop in the morning and waste valuable time. I am going to shoot her an email anyway to let her know what we know so that she is up to speed. Oh, and she has a tendency to stutter, but it’s not a reflection on her competence. It actually vanishes in tense situations. Just ignore it.”

“Understood. Thank you for your help, Q.”

“Of course, Double-oh Seven. It’s my job.”


	20. A Day in the Life of a Security Guard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bond is a security guard and once again misses Q.

In the morning, Bond got dressed in his security guard attire: a slightly less nice suit than normal and a white bulletproof shirt that Q was having him field test. He slid on his new thick belt equipped with handcuffs, a taser, a standard issue handgun, and a flashlight. He tucked his personal Walther PPK into his shoulder holster and slid on his jacket. One last look in the mirror to straighten his tie and adjust his watch and he was ready to go. The bland car he drove to the company building and parked in the lot was sadly lacking any Q branch modifications; he missed those more than he had thought he would. Reporting in at the main security office, he began his first day as a security guard at Golden Oil Company, the leading oil company in the country and current target of an MI6 operation. 

It was boring. He mostly stood by the entrance and watched people walk in. He watched for suspicious characters and saw none. Lots of scientists swarming in and out. A couple lawyer types and many other business types. He didn’t see anyone that looked they they would be getting ready to drill for the oil, which bugged him for a second until he remembered that this was their headquarters and thus was mainly administration. The drills were primarily off-seas or elsewhere in the country. This was the building for the people without the smudges on their hands. 

When he wasn’t watching people walk in and out of the revolving door, he patrolled the corridors to ensure that the people with visitors badges were not in places they were not supposed to be. This was at least a little more stimulating. He was able to wander into a few of the labs and see what they were working on while having an excuse for being there. He spoke with a couple of friendly staff members on his lunch break in the cafe. Mainly scientists from Germany who were excited to find someone else who spoke their language.

They didn’t know much company gossip, but what they did know was relationship statuses. Apparently, the bathrooms down near the labs were the most popular place to go for a quick shag as well as to have a private cry when your partner broke up with you. The scientists mostly left them alone as they were too engrossed in their own work to bother anyone. And it was, like the Secret Intelligent Service, only the boffins in the basement. Everyone else avoided the dark if they could. For a company made of mostly Germans, they seemed determined to enjoy the warm Turkish sun while they could. The atrium, with its high glass ceilings, made for a popular gathering spot, as did the patio outside of the cafeteria. 

The most interesting part of the day was when Bond managed to accidentally pass by finance and check on his primary suspect again. She reminded him of M, sitting in her office at the front of the room. Clearly in charge, yet also clearly isolated from the rest. She had a secretary that was outside of her door in an exterior office. Bond knocked on the door frame and politely poked his head in. 

“Can I help you?” her secretary asked in a stern voice. 

“I am just doing my rounds and wanted to check that everything was peaceful in here or if you needed anything.” He smiled his suave smile at her. It didn’t seem to work.

“Everything is fine,” she replied curtly. “Please do leave as you are disturbing our work. We require full concentration.”

“Naturally. Have a nice day,” he replied in the same cheerful voice as before, letting her ire roll off him. With an incline of his head, he left the office and slowly walked out of financing. But not before noticing that every one of the workers was secluded in his or her own little cubicle. The cubicle walls were higher than normal and there were no shared spaces. They might be productive, but it certainly wasn't a sociable environment. There was an almost mechanical quiet to the room. Unnatural in its stillness. The only sounds were keyboard clacks, the whir of the computers, and the occasional sounds as someone walked to retrieve a printout from the one printer on the far end of the room. There would not be any office pranks happening in that cavern. Only a full scale mutiny would occur. 

The next day was very similar. He used his already established friendship with the Germans he had talked with yesterday to ask why finance seemed so incredibly strict when the other departments he had visited were very pleasant. He got smiles from most of the employees he had paused to greet. Some of the departments even had decorations or had soft music playing in the background. And everywhere else there was friendly chatter between the workers without disrupting their productivity.

“So why not in finance?” he asked. 

“It’s the head of their department,” one engineer explained. She leaned closer “Mrs. Kohler is her name. She runs it like the military.”

“I think she was in the army at one point,” another one of the lunch group whispered. “She certainly terrifies me like my commanding officer used to. It didn’t take long for me to realise that I was not cut out for the military,” he explained when Bond said he didn’t look like a military person. “I’m much better at designing weapons than firing them. Chemistry is where my heart lies.”

“Do you have much interaction with Mrs. Kohler?” Bond asked.

“Not if we can help it.” They all nodded their heads. “Our heads of department occasionally have to interact with her at department head meetings and they always seem to dread the meetings and most of them lock themselves in their office as soon as they are done.”

“I know those of us in the chem labs fear her because she directly controls our budget, but we need a lot of money for our research and cutting money would mean not being able to meet deadlines.”

“And we are already low staffed. There haven’t been as many lay-offs as other companies that some of our colleagues work at, however, it still hurts.”

“Yeah, we lost Paul last week and he was the best coffee maker on our floor.” There was some laughter at that. 

“That is true. But he also was the best at anticipating stress points in pipes and knowing which pipe would burst next. Instead we get interns who are great at running files and fetching drinks, but aren’t good for bouncing ideas off of.”

“And we only get them for a semester, maybe a full year, before they rotate out again.” The conversation from there on was talking about the interns they had currently and comparing the best and the worst between departments. Bond excused himself after he finished his drink and left to continue patrolling the building. Once he was in a quiet hallway, he discreetly touched his earpiece to turn it on. 

"Azra? Are you receiving?" he inquired. 

"Loud and clear, Double-oh Seven," she responded in a chipper voice. 

"Did Q forward you the information he found on Mrs. Kohler? The wife of the company CEO?"

"Yes, he did. I've got it right here." She minimised the unrelated window and glanced over the document from Q. "What do you need?"

"I need you to dig deeper. Find out anything you can. She is definitely my prime suspect."

“Do you suspect she would be using her own computer or more likely to find another one?"

"I don't know enough yet. Certainly her department has a healthy fear of her. If she did work on any of their computers it wasn't voluntary. Focus on her personal history and we will move on from there."

 

The next day Bond had no work and he mostly hung out at the hotel after checking in with Station T. He told them what he knew and they updated him on a couple new bits of Intel. Azra had found a couple new things in Frita Kohler's history, but she was still working. 

He drove to the office after dinner for night shift. He had used a sleight of hand to draw the short straw. He could understand that the other men wanted to stay on a normal schedule and be able to see their families more often, but he had a mission to complete and night time was the best time to do that. 

He had Azra bring up the layout of the building so that she could see where he was and follow along. He didn’t anticipate needing her, but she would only improve if she had practice. She watched as he wandered the hallways. After doing an initial sweep, he headed directly to the finance department. Peering around the corner first, he saw that all of the lights were off. He couldn’t see any computers on, so he flicked his torch on and asked Azra to check for any cameras.

“I’ve got three cameras, but I can wipe the footage. I’m hacking in right now.” Bond continued exploring while she worked. It was an additional four minutes before she announced that she was inside the system. Bond spared another thought for how lucky he was to have Q on all of his other missions. He went to Kohler’s office and turned on her computer. After a minute it booted up and he plugged in his phone. 

“I’ve got the link to the computer,” Azra confirmed. “You can unplug.  I’ll see what I can find on it, but I’ll pass it along to Q when he checks in with us in the morning. I’ll turn the computer off remotely. Don’t spend too long in there, remember there are other employees who do work late at night and might notice that something is unusual.”

“Understood. Do you see anyone else on the cameras?”

“No one else that I can see in the hallways.” She hummed as she looked at a few more cameras. “A few people in their offices and labs, but they look to be occupied with their work.” Bond acknowledged again and continued looking around the office. It was as bland as the rest of finance. 

A wall calendar with no important dates marked in any way. A smaller day by day calendar that showed tomorrow’s date; she must have flipped it before she left. There was only one picture on the wall and it was a picture of a landscape in Germany. Something to remind her of home perhaps. 

On her desk was a small picture frame that held a recent photo of her and her husband at a conference in Berlin. They were holding up a small trophy of some sort and seemed very pleased. Also on her desk was a ceramic pen holder with all black pens. A matching one on the other side of the computer held only silver mechanical pencils. An elegant desk toy rotated slowly around in a perfect dance of physics. Bond was tempted to nick it and give it to Q. 

Instead he left the dreary office and continued to patrol the hallways. There was one instance where he was investigating a part of the building he had been expressedly told not to enter and had to hide in the janitor’s closet when he heard someone approaching him. With an eye against the crack between the door and the doorframe, he watched the scientist approach. He wasn’t paying any attention to his surroundings as he was picking at his dirty lab coat. With a mental apology to Q, Bond slipped out of the closet behind the man and clobbered him over the back of the head with a mop. The man collapsed to the floor without a sound. Bond dragged him to the lounge area and laid him on a couch. 

“What did you do that for?” Azra was clearly not expecting that.

“It’s more believable that he had simply fallen asleep if he is found on a couch rather than in the middle of the floor or stuffed in the janitor's closet,” Bond replied, fully aware that she was not questioning that part. She huffed in annoyance, pursing her lips on the other end of the line.

“I’ll make sure the cameras display a glitch there.”

Bond hummed his approval and opened the door to the lab.

It didn’t immediately seem like a useful place to explore. He certainly couldn’t understand why it was off limits. But he used his phone to take a few pictures of the equations littering the walls for Q branch to look over. And so, seeing nothing more interesting to explore, he returned to the night guard post and watched some screens while he tried not to fall asleep. He exchanged a couple words with Azra, but she was not as good of a conversationalist as Q was and he signed off. He was left to mull over the case in his head and plan his next step. Unusually, he had a team behind him in the field that he was in charge of, but he still couldn’t figure out how to use them. Any social interaction he typically had during missions was with the asset, the enemy, or a means to an end. Solo missions were his modus operandi and he was out of his depth. After much hard thought, he decided to ignore the team unless he needed back up and continue as if it were a solo mission. He was good at those. That having been decided, he slept lightly until the next guard was scheduled to switch with him.


	21. A Whisper of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone is close to unraveling Q's past.

Bond continued being a security guard for a couple more weeks as he sleuthed for more information on who was behind the attacks against alternative energy. And it was attacks plural. Since he had been there, another smaller attack had been carried out on a nearby research lab. It wasn't as destructive, but there were reports of it having been broken into and they feared that some of their research had been stolen, though they couldn't prove anything. They could prove that someone had vindictively switched pluses and minuses on the whiteboards around the room. Bond had a good laugh at that. He suspected that Q might have taken the report and posted it in Q branch to remind his staff to be extra vigilant and save their work. And to always double check their work before progressing to the testing stage. 

In fact it was R who found the article and posted it. She also gave the small lecture since Q was busy updating the home security of a new head of staff within MI6. The records branch now had a new head after the old one retired. He had finally admitted that spending all day reading faded print was starting to hurt his eyes and he had best step down. He couldn't bear to leave entirely, but he could no longer be in charge of the branch like he used to. 

As much as Q liked talking to Mr. Placid whenever he found time, an incredibly rare occurrence, he was looking forward to having another fresh face at department head meetings. He had established himself as a vital part of the SIS, but he was still the newest department head and even the British government had some level of hazing. He would be glad to be done with that. 

And from looking around this person's apartment, he had a glimmer of hope for convincing him to digitise the records so that they were more easily searchable. Every public archive library was doing it now so it was time the secret service caught up. 

Q heard the keys in the door and then heard the door bang open. Q finished wiring up another detector in a light fixture and climbed down the ladder. He walked out of the kitchen and into the entry hall to see another man toss his keys into the bowl by the front door. He missed.

“Bugger,” he muttered as he ignored them. He looked up to see Q standing there and smiled. “You must be Q.” He held out his hand and they shook. 

“Indeed. And you are Mr. Roeniz?” The man matched the picture Q had seen with the employee record, but he figured it was best to be polite and pretend like he hadn’t done an extensive background check on the man. 

“Yup.” He hung up his light jacket and set his bag on a nearby chair. “How is the security upgrade going?”

“It’s going well. I’m just finishing up installing a few other sensors for other poisonous gases and then I’ll be finished. Let me walk you through what I have so far.” Q walked with him through the house and showed him where the safes were hiding, where the emergency buttons were tucked away, and how to open the windows without setting off the alarms. When that was done, Q installed the last of the sensors and returned the ladder to the closet and his tools to his toolbox. When he was finished, Mr. Roeniz invited him to stay for a drink to celebrate the new apartment. Seeing as he didn't have anything else he needed to get done that day, Q obliged. 

"You must call me David when we are off the clock."

"Well then, David, I must compliment you on your choice of house warming wine. This is good." They enjoyed some nice conversation over the kitchen counter and Q told him all about the things no one warns you about being department head. 

"Wow. Suddenly this isn't sounding like as nice of a gig." He leaned back against the sink and ran a hand through his short black hair. 

"It's really not bad at all. I just wanted to warn you that it will be hard work. You will get used to the work and learn which of your staff you can delegate which tasks to. It will start to fall into a rhythm and it won't seem like a big deal anymore." He put a hand on David's shoulder.

"Trust me when I say they would not have chosen you if they didn't think you could handle the pressure."

"Thanks Q, that means a lot coming from you. A lot of people think highly of you."

"I feel honoured." 

"How long have you worked at MI6?" David asked. "You look familiar for some reason." Q felt a small pang of worry, but he pushed it down without a pause in the conversation. 

"It's been around five years now. But I tend to avoid records like the plague. I doubt you would've remembered me." 

"No, I feel like I recognise you from somewhere else. What did you do before you were hired? It wasn't anything that would have been on telly?"

"IT and security testing work mostly," Q lied smoothly. "Just like now I was mostly in the basement. It must have been someone who looked like me."

"Hmmm." He looked closely at Q's face, but didn't detect the lie. "Must have been."

In the awkward silence that followed, Q glanced at his watch and was surprised to see how late it had gotten. "I'm sorry, but I've got plans for an early dinner and I need to stop home with these tools before I head out, so I need to get going." He finished off the rest of his wine and placed the glass in the sink. "Lovely to meet you. I look forward to seeing you in the interdepartmental meetings." They shook hands once again and Q walked out the door with his tools.

He wasn't entirely lying about having plans for dinner. He just had four hours until he was planning on meeting M, Tanner, and Eve for supper. Plenty of time to stop home and change out of his digging-in-walls clothes and into something casual-but-nice. It was M's night to choose the location and he tended toward the upscale. Two hours later, M sent out a text with the address of their restaurant. It was the restaurant at the top of the shard. Q was grateful that his phobia of flying actually was completely unrelated to heights. 

 

***

 

After a wonderful supper, full of laughter and office gossip, he returned home to find all the lights in the flat already on. Bel was sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine in her hand. She didn’t look up when he walked in. He picked up on her mood immediately. Locking the door behind him, he toed off his shoes and sat down next to her on the cushion. She didn’t say anything.

“Anything you want to talk about?” he asked gently. 

“No.” He didn’t say anything, just waited. “A bad day. Mostly lots of little things that added up and suddenly hit me all at once.” Q let his hand rest on her thigh. “One of the secretaries is in love with Hector.”

“Another one?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she scoffed. “Another one. But Hector, on the other hand, is busy flirting with some other girl that works in a restaurant nearby. It’s a good thing Marnie divorced him three years ago. I don’t know how she would have put up with him. I can see now that he is just the type of man who will never settle down.”

“He at least seems to be still be presenting well.”

“Yes,” Bel smiled. “That at least he did learn after the scandal during your last year there. And now that him and Marnie are separate, he cannot count on his father-in-law to get him into jobs.”

“So he finally has to work to keep his position.” Q was a bit smug about that. 

“Yes. Now he knows what you had to suffer through. But he is off flirting with another woman when I would rather have him in the office working on his research. And the other new secretaries keep fawning over him. At least the newest makeup artist finally got over her crush.”

“How are Lix and Randall?” Q asked. They had been working on reconciling when he left. They realized that their love for each other was stronger than either had thought when confronted with the scene of Bel constantly at Freddie’s side in the hospital. 

“They are really good now.” She rotated on the sofa to lean against the armrest and put her legs in Q’s lab for a foot massage. He was really good at those. “They moved in together just last month and things seem to be going well. Far less sleeping at the office for Lix now. She would hate me for saying it, but she is getting older now and that can’t be good for her back. Sleeping on the floor is never the way to go.”

“Unless you are camping.”

“Freddie, you have not been camping since you and I spent the night on my grandparent’s estate when we were fifteen and spent all night reading Ian Fleming novels and acting out the best bits in the forest. You can’t talk.”

He pouted. “Fine. But I have slept at the office plenty. Maybe I should make a blanket fort in my office.”

“And what would your co-workers think of you then?”

“Well, the others in my branch would love me even more and bring extra blankets so that there is room for everyone.” Bel laughed at his childish grin. She could tell he was already mentally planning out how it would look. “And the others would probably just take one look at it and walk away. Crazier things have happened so they are used to some amount of shenanigans from us. There might be a few of the agents who would join us. Although they might just turn it into a game of taser tag. Probably the latter.”

“Why do they have tasers?”

“They steal them and lie about it when they hand in their equipment. Unfortunately nothing I can do about it.” He continued rubbing her feet. “So what else about today was stressful? What you have described so far seems fairly standard for The Hour.”

“That much yes.” She sighed and scrubbed at her face with the hand that wasn’t holding her glass. “But on top of that, this week was a slow news week and so we were stretched thin trying to fill our time slot. And our cameraman was out sick. Plus one of the sound engineers is on a maternity leave. And then Sissy and her husband have been fighting lately.” Q raised a surprised eyebrow. “From the outside it seems like it was mostly poor communication and a bit of autocorrect failure didn’t help. But they aren’t talking and Sissy is living with her mother and hasn’t been her usual cheery self. I don’t think I realised how much she contributed to the atmosphere of the place until she wasn’t any longer.”

“She did always have a smile on her face,” Q recalled. “I knew I could always count on her to calm me down and make me smile when I was having a stressful week.”

“And, to top it all off.” She took a sip of white wine. “I found out yesterday that Mother passed away.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m surprised she lasted this long. And I was never really that close to her, hated her most of my life really. But I was so much like her really. Both of us independent woman who didn’t answer to any man. She had a heart attack while out at dinner with a new man.” Q snorted. “Yeah, I know. She lied about her age and what was in her wallet.”

“At least she died doing what she loved.” Bel leaned forward and slapped him on the shoulder, but she was smiling.

“You are awful.”

“You were thinking it though.”

“Shut up.” He obediently shut his mouth, but his smile only grew. Her eyes were twinkling over her glass as she took another sip. “So how was your day?” she asked to move on and help distract her from her terrible day. Q sighed and leaned back. 

“I spent all morning doing repairs on equipment that my agents have brought back. It’s almost impressive how many ways they manage to wreck the things we build. But at least we know when it comes back intact it is the final design and it is ready to be made en masse.”

“Yeah, when do I get this recording pen that you keep telling me about?”

“Soon.” Q grinned. “But it needs a few more tests. Bond has it right now and he is usually the final test. Then in the afternoon I was upgrading the security at a new department head’s house.” He remembered how their conversation ended and he made a sour face. “I’m worried about him.”

“Why? Does he not think you are competent?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. I am worried he recognises me from The Hour.” Bel was surprised.

“He has been watching that long?”

“I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “He just said that I looked familiar. And he didn’t think it was from MI6, which makes sense. I never go to his department if I can help it.”

“But he won’t say anything, will he?”

“I don’t know. I only met him today. I hope he won’t and respects my choice to leave my past in the shadows to protect all of you.”

“Well, you weren’t in front of the camera too often, and you know you look different now.”

“Yeah, someone else kept stealing the spotlight.” Maybe he was still a little bitter about Hector being the main presenter for the program that was to be their escape from monotony. Even when they co-hosted, the media generally ignored him in favor of talking about Hector.

“You got to end our first series on an epic note,” she reminded him. “No one who was watching that episode would have forgotten you. You had our viewers hanging on the edge of their seats and yelling at the TV when you were cut off.”

“I know our online blog got a record number of hits when I posted the audio of the polished speech on there.” Q shook his head. “I still see quotes from that floating around online. One of my co-workers has it at their workstation in a frame and that’s still a bit disconcerting whenever I see it.” Bel snorted into her glass.

“You are too cute when you are flustered. I wish I could’ve seen you when you first noticed that.”

“I managed to only catch it as I was walking by on my way to my office so I didn’t react much. I think I probably texted you or went to the range to blow stuff up. But at least with that, people know my name more than they know my face. I’d rather my words and inventions be spread around rather than my looks.”

“I must agree.” Bel sat up and placed her wine glass on the table. “I want your looks all to myself.” She kissed him on the cheek and all he could do was smile as they held each other in a tight embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get this early today because I am moving to my very own apartment/flat today. It's going to be crazy. Wish me luck.  
> A much more exciting chapter next week.


	22. Pride Comes Before a Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the mastermind is found.

James Bond, agent Double-oh seven of her Majesty’s Secret Service, was lurking through the shadows of the Kohler home after nearly knocking over a lamp. He blamed it on the unnatural layout of their house. Really, who puts a lamp right next to a door frame?

But now he reclined in an armchair in the front room with his gun resting on his knee. He had gathered enough conclusive evidence with the help of Azra and, unknown to them, his new lunch buddies, in order to get a complete idea of who was involved in this scheme. He was just waiting until the Kohlers arrived home after their dinner. He didn’t have to wait long before he heard a car pull up in the driveway and the engine turn off. He lifted the muzzle of his gun and aimed it at the door. The key turned in the door and the two Kohler’s were laughing pleasantly as they walked in the door. Axel Kohler reached to the wall to turn on the lights while Frita closed the door behind them. As they turned back toward the room, they saw Bond sitting in the chair, half in shadow, half in the light. 

“Who are you?” Axel asked with a quavering voice. “What do you want?”

“I would like to speak with your wife about her extracurricular activities,” Bond responded cooly. “She has gone too far.”

“What extracurricular activities do you speak of?” she asked with a steady voice and a pale face. Bond was not fooled. She was scared.

“The ones that caught our attention in Paris.” 

“My wife has never been to Paris.” Mr. Kohler was outraged.

“She was not in Paris, that much is true. I suppose she hasn’t told you about her plans to save the future of your company?” 

Axel looked at his wife. “Honey?” 

She tried to lie. “I don’t know what he is talking about, Axel dear. He must be mistaken.”

“Let us all sit down at your kitchen table and have a civil conversation about this,” Bond suggested while making clear that this was an order with a wave of the gun. They wordlessly complied and sat down at the glass table, hands folded primly in their laps. “Now, Frita, why don’t you tell your husband about your grand plan for securing the future of your company.”

“I really don’t know what you are talking about,” she continued to deny. “Are you talking about our new budget reforms? I don’t know what that would have to do with Paris though. Like my husband said, I have never been to--.”

“Silence!” Bond barked. She would just keep rambling and try to distract him if he let her continue. Not that it would work. “If you won’t share, I will.” He directed his attention toward the husband. “Allow me to tell you the story of an ambitious woman who would do anything it took to get ahead in the world. She excelled in school and spent time in the military, which only strengthened her innate perseverance and drive. Later she found her way into an oil company and began working in the finance division. She excelled and began advancing through the ranks.

“Sometime within this period of advancement, she met the CEO of her company and they hit it off. A year later they married and then a few years later she made it to the head of her division. Everyone in her department knows she earned it and it is completely unrelated to her marriage.

“But she runs her division with an iron fist. The stereotypical German rigidity that is known around the globe. As head of finance, she is able to see that the company has not been growing as much as it has in the past. She figured out that this could be due to companies wanting to invest in the new future of alternate energy. News reports so far had been singing their praises and in order for the company to succeed in the distant future, something needed to change.” Bond looked back at Frita to see how she was reacting to this. She was very pale and her hands in her lap were shaking slightly. Axel, for his part, seemed to be confused. Almost like he didn’t want to believe that this story was so obviously about his wife. 

“And so she did what any sensible business person does and reached out to her clients to establish allies in this fight. For it is a fight.” He returned his gaze to the husband. “She found a willing ally among a few different companies, but one in particular lead to the Paris event. Hermes Transport.”

“Mr. Miller!” Axel exclaimed. “I haven’t heard from him in some time; we used to talk at least twice a month.”

“The very same. This woman contacted him and worked with his secretary to plan an attack against the positive media view on alternative energy. The plan was to target the energy conference in Paris. There would be many talks, but the climax would be a demonstration of an eagerly awaited new energy device. The media would all be there as well as members of government who were supporting this research and the scientists doing the research. But how best to go about it?”

“Stop it.” Frita sounded close to tears as she quietly pleased for him to stop. “Stop talking. I know what I did and I’m not proud of it. But I did it.”

“You know I wasn’t too sure how much you were involved in the planning of the actual sabotage, but I suppose I am now. You may have been able to plead ignorance before, yet that is no longer the case. You said you know what you did.” He tapped the pen from Q branch in his front pocket that was also a recording device. She sunk down lower in her chair as Bond continued his story. “The plan was to sabotage the energy device so that it looked like a complete failure. Then, perhaps, people would think twice about investing in new energy and instead rely on good old oil. The blood of our nation and many nations around the world. But how to make sure it went wrong? The plans for the device were very secret and so you wouldn’t know what it looked like ahead of time or how to disable it in enough time. There was only one solution you could see. A bomb.”

Axel gasped and his hand flew to cover his agape mouth. “You didn’t.”

“A bomb that would destroy the device and possibly the people nearby,” Bond said into the silence as husband and wife stared at each other. 

“I did.” She hung her head.

Bond still spoke. “It would make it seem like the new energy device was far more dangerous than it was worth. No one would want to invest in it.”

“It didn’t work though. The bomb never went off.”

“That was only because I disabled it earlier in the day,” Bond explained cooly. She snapped her head up to look at him.

“You? Why were you there?” she demanded, outrage colouring her voice. “You are just a security guard for hire.”

“I was being a security guard for someone who was in attendance at the conference and although he is a bit of a paranoid nutter, he has good intuition. There are some very suspicious things that I know to look out for. To make a long story short, I found the bomb and disabled it. Your street thugs were quite resourceful in obtaining magnesium and trying to spread fear, but even so, the media got to the heart of the truth and your plan fell through. You should count yourself lucky that no one was badly hospitalised as a result of your plan.”

“I wish they were,” she spit venomously. Her mask of a repentant wife had been dropped. Her husband looked scandalised. 

“You can’t mean that, Frita,” he whispered. He didn’t recognise this vicious woman who had taken the place of his sweet, if strict, wife. “This isn’t you. I know this isn’t you.”

“Well then I guess you don’t know me as well as you thought you did,” she sneered. “I am proud of what I have done.” She stood up in pride and faced her husband. Bond followed her motion with his gun, but neither Kohler noticed. “You are too passive. I cannot believe you are in charge of this company sometimes. You would not have lasted as long as you have without me by your side. Everyone knows it's really me who runs our company. You just show up at meetings with your innocent outlook on life and charm everyone into agreeing with you. But your charm alone isn’t enough. Someone has to make sure a business deal with a German oil company based in Turkey looks like a good deal. Like it or not, we have to be proactive if we are going to stay in business.” Mr. Kohler just sat in his chair numb, shaking his head back and forth, not believing what he was hearing. 

“What, what will you do to her?” he asked Bond in a small voice.

“I am placing her under arrest and will be bringing her back to Germany for holding by the appropriate authorities,” Bond said evenly. “It will be up to a jury what happens next. You, Mr. Kohler, should not have anything to worry about. You will be free to continue to run your business, although you may need a new head of finance.”


	23. A Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the squad has some time to catch up with each other after the mission.

Bond, with another agent from the MI6 branch in Turkey, escorted Frita Kohler back to Berlin on the first flight available and left her in the custody of the Turkish agent and the German authorities. The few others within the business who had been revealed as accomplices were being held in custody in Turkey and would be dealt with as local authority deemed best. Bond arrived back in Heathrow and was greeted by Moneypenny in a sleek black company car. 

“After you report into headquarters, head home because Q is picking out our dinner place tonight,” Moneypenny told James as she calmly, well mostly calmly, drove back to HQ. “He has assured us that there will be plenty of opportunities for dancing. We all need it after this long week.”

“Has it been busy back in London?” he asked curiously. Since it was a low scale mission, relatively speaking, he had checked in with the local Q branch and hadn’t heard from Q too much once the mission really picked up. 

“The head of records retired at last--well, he stepped down as the head of the department--and Q has been incredibly helpful in assisting the new head of department with the adjustment.” She swerved around a slow driver and finally made it into the central zone of London. “He has been doing more than he has to on top of all his usual duties and Tanner is busy adjusting all the paperwork and organizing the updates in security clearance.” 

Bond let out a low whistle. “Who is the new department head then?” 

“David Roeniz. Q and him seem to have hit it off.” Moneypenny looked sideways at James with a smirk. “I think Q is glad to have another younger face in the interdepartmental meetings.”

“That, and he has been wanting to get all of those records digitized for a while now.” Bond grinned. “He probably wants to win him over and then guilt him into digitizing everything without realising it will put him out of a job and leave Q in charge of another department.” Moneypenny threw her head back and laughed. 

“Before we know it, Q will be the one running MI6 and we will all be bowing down to him as our overlord.” They pulled into the underground garage. “Q branch already does.”

“Definitely. And don’t forget the people who work at the Q branch stations abroad,” Bond added as he got out. “I know everyone I interacted with these past couple weeks in Turkey seemed like they worshiped Q. He acts like he doesn’t know, but he uses it well. He has them all at his beck and call.”

“Well, speaking of beck and call, M instructed me to escort you up to his office before you do anything else. Not sure why,” she added before he could ask. “I just know what my instructions are.” 

“Alright. Let’s go see what M has to reprimand me for this time.”

 

***

 

“What have you brought back for me this time, Double-oh Seven?” Q asked when Bond made it down to the basement lair. Q turned away from his laptop in the main command room and crossed his arms. He had that unimpressed look that said he expected nothing to be returned.

It was with a smile that Bond handed over both his gun, a couple bullets still left in it, and the recorder pen. Q raised an impressed eyebrow before logging them back in the system and then beckoning to one of his staff to put them with the other gadgets that needed to be gone over for diagnosis and minor repairs. 

“So you return your equipment in one piece if I am not watching your missions?” he quipped. “I feel like you must be doing it just to get rid of me then. If this is a trend then I don’t think I will ever run your missions again in favor of my budget.”

“Only because it was an easy mission, Q,” the agent returned. “I couldn’t stand to lose you on coms. Your skill with opening doors is legendary.”

“Well, my father did always raise me to be a proper gentleman,” Q chose a different interpretation of Bond’s comment on purpose. Bond just stared at the man in front of him until he began to squirm and looked away and back down at his computer screen. “Was there anything else you needed from me, Double-oh seven?”

“Only the address for dinner tonight. Moneypenny said that you promised dancing.” He winked. Q didn’t see.

“There is good dance music at this place, yes. Eve insisted on somewhere where she could dance even though it is my week to choose. But I happened to be planning on this location either way. I think she will like it.”

“Where is this mystery place?”

“You will receive the address at the same time as everyone else,” Q admonished. “Returning your equipment in one piece does not merit a reward. That is merely reaching the low bar I have set for all of my agents. Now get out of my branch; I have work to do.” He locked the screen on the laptop he was working on with a click of a key and swept off to his office. Bond could only smile a thin lipped smile and shake his head as he walked out through the glass doors.

  
  


It was six o'clock when the MI6 gang received a text with their dinner location and an instruction to dress casual. Q had dressed casual for work that day so he would leave his cardigan at the office and go directly to the restaurant. He arrived just before seven and barely had to wait before the others showed up outside the establishment. 

"Kiki's Swing Bar," M read out loud, the scepticism was clear. Q only grinned. 

"Don't judge a book by it's cover. Come on, follow me." He lead the way inside. The boys looked doubtful as they followed, but Moneypenny had a large smile which only grew larger as they entered the door and she heard the music.

It was a live band playing swing music from the late fifties with trumpets, bass, piano, and a few odds and ends beside. A beautiful waitress greeted them and her hips swayed gracefully as she lead them to a table in the corner. Q was visibly shedding his professional personality as he, too, started to sway to the music. The field agents among them were pleased with the corner booth and they all ordered their drinks. The dancing would come after they had relaxed a little bit more. 

"Miss Moneypenny," Bond leaned forward on his elbows. "What office gossip have I missed while I was off in the sun?"

"There was a prank war in the coding department last week." Q grinned with her while the other two rolled their eyes. "It actually seeped out of their wing and they replaced a lot of the signs around the building with codes."

"They were also holding an informal competition to see who could make the standard code of the day contain the most pop cultures references and who could make each phrase an anagram," Q added. "I saw some ridiculous suggestions on the servers."

"Well it was a headache for those of us who can't unravel codes in our heads," Tanner groused. 

"It's alright, Tanner," Q put a hand on his shoulder. "Not everyone is a good fit for my branch."

"Is that supposed to make me feel any better?"

"Ah, well, it was. But you see, that's why you deal with people and I deal with machines." 

"Speaking of machines," M cut in. "I was going to ask you to fix the coffee machine in the exec lounge. It broke only Tuesday, but already we have been less productive and the general irritability of everyone has increased. Moneypenny won’t bring me coffee from the shop down the street." Said secretary and ex-field agent stuck her tongue out at her boss like a child. 

"I had wondered why the emails I got from Tanner were more tersely worded than usual," Q mused. 

"Not everyone has their own army of minions to keep their mug of tea full and warm," Bond laughed. "You have them well trained."

"That wasn't even me, though I wish I could take credit for it. It was R who did that. I'm still not entirely convinced that she hasn't modified my mugs with an electronic sensor of some sort to notify her or all of my branch when the thing is running low. I tried bringing in a completely new mug once, but they still delivered. I've decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth."

"But can you fix the coffee maker upstairs?" Moneypenny asked. "I don't think I can listen to another week of all the other executives snapping at each other over such minor things as paper clips or staples."

"You guys know that is why I have a separate IT department, right? So I don't have to waste my time on minor problems that could be solved with a screwdriver, a soldering iron, and Google. Put in a request for one of them to fix it."

"But you could make it better. Like one of those stupidly expensive ones that talk, but better because who needs a coffee machine that talks," M said. “Tanner mentioned that you like to have a couple pet projects that are in no way related to work for stress relief.”

"You make such creative things for us agents, don't tell me you don't have plenty of ideas for a high tech coffee machine in that head of yours,” Bond probed. Q was given a minute’s respite as their drinks arrived, but they weren’t going to let him off the hook.

“Alright, so I have had some ideas,” he conceded. “There are coffee machines on the market that you can program to make your coffee or your tea a specific way. I think accounts has one like that since a majority of them like their coffee extra black. But it wouldn’t take too much software modification to make it so that there are more than two profiles in the system.”

“One for each person who uses it,” Tanner caught on. Q nodded.

“And one for each of the double-oh agents,” Bond added. M looked at him in confusion. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know that we use the exec lounge whenever we want because it is nicer than ours. We just go when no one else is using it.” Moneypenny snorted. “Q knew that.”

“That’s because he can access your trackers at any point,” Tanner defended. 

“No, I won’t access them if they aren’t on mission unless it is an emergency. They deserve their time off.” Q defended himself. “Besides I can’t be expected to babysit them at all hours. I just knew that they would go in there because they are double-ohs. They feel entitled to the best and they will use what skills we have trained them for to get what they feel they deserve. The exec lounge is seen as the best in the building so they want a part of it.” Bond confirmed this with a nod. 

“Then why aren’t you ever there, Q?” M asked. 

“Because Q branch is better.” He smiled when they didn’t get it. “Notice I said exec is seen as the best, not that it is the best. You can’t out do a bunch of hungry technophiles who can program in their sleep. We just know how to keep secrets as well. No one else seems inclined to spend too much time in the basement levels anyways.”

“Everyone else needs sunlight, Q.” Moneypenny rolled her eyes. “You raise vampires down there, I’m sure of it. And anyone else who doesn’t spend time down there might actually not be used to the sound of explosions coming from your labs.” Q laughed. He did enjoy that part of his branch. It added some nice atmosphere to the place. 

“So yes, I could fix your coffee maker, but if you want it to be a really nice one, go out and buy one of the high end ones and drop it off. I’ll have a small group of the newbies work on it as a programming project to hone their skills. It will be good practice for them.”

The others smiled a knowing smile at the skillful delegation. It was something they had all learned by necessity. M flagged down a waitress and they ordered some food for a light dinner. 

“What other changes have there been?” Bond asked. “I know Moneypenny told me there is a new head of records. Any other changes of position?”

Tanner fielded that question. “We sent a few agents over to MI5; we had a really diverse batch of trainees this time around and we haven’t lost as many as we usually do thanks to Q. When I spoke with my counterpart over there he said they needed more field agents who were good at disguises and blending in with any crowd for their undercover unit.”

“The chameleon crew,” Q said. They looked at him in surprise.

“I haven’t heard them called that before,” M said. 

“I call them that.” He shrugged. “It’s a good name. I just can’t believe nobody has come up with it before.” There were some thoughtful nods before Tanner continued. 

“In exchange, records got a few new people to help with the change over. Always a mess when there is a new head even if it is a transition the old head had been preparing for. They will be gone after two months, but I’m sure Mr. Roeniz appreciates their help. Have you spoken with him since you met him that week, Q?”

“Only brief emails exchanged,” he gave a slight grimace as he spoke. “He seemed pleasant enough, but he thinks he might recognise me from somewhere and I’d rather not be around in person to jog his memory if I don’t have to.”

“Recognise you from something you did in your past?” Bond asked. “Before joining Six?”

“Yeah. Not that I am not proud of what I did before, but the fewer people who can make the connection, the better for all involved.”

“We understand,” Tanner spoke for all of them even though only M knew what he used to do. “We will do what we can to dissuade him of the notion. What did you tell him?”

“I told him I worked in IT, a typical basement dweller so he probably only thinks I look like someone else. I know my glasses and my ridiculous hair are my most distinguishing features, but otherwise I can be mistaken for many others. I used to get confused with another classmate of mine all the time in primary school. A few of our teachers just couldn’t tell us apart.”

“So naturally you pretended to be each other?” Moneypenny asked. 

“Precisely, Eve. Every Thursday we would be the other person for the day. It didn’t make much of a difference since we shared all our classes, but it was fun.”

“Why do you call her Eve?” Bond suddenly asked, leaning back and crossing his arms. Q’s face closed up immediately. 

“What?” Q asked. 

“We all call her Moneypenny, but you never do,” the agent pointed out. “You always call her Eve.”

“I can call her whatever I like so long as she is okay with what I choose. I have chosen to call her Eve.”

“Yes, but, you are strictly professional with everyone else who is not in your branch and call us all by our last names. What makes Moneypenny any different?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” he said flatly.

“I am just curious.”

“And I am telling you that I will not be sharing that reason.” He turned to Eve. “Care to dance?” 

“Gladly,” she answered. They quickly left the tense atmosphere that had befallen their table and escaped to the dance floor. Moneypenny learned that Q was a surprisingly good dancer, if a bit awkward. His limbs seemed extra out of control as he flung them around, but they were perfect when he spun her around under his arms. The next song progressed into a slower dance and Q smoothly slid his hands down to her waist and they swayed. 

“Will you tell me why you use my first name?” she asked softly. “I must confess I had been wondering for a while.” Q was silent for a couple measures of music. 

“You won’t tell the others?” he looked at her with pleading eyes and she knew she couldn’t resist.

“Of course not. But remember they are spies and will figure it out eventually.” He nodded and took a deep breath.

“Remember years ago when Six gave that author a contract to write some spy novels because a certain agent couldn’t help but introduce himself to everyone he met even though he was still just a young field agent at the time?” Eve nodded. She remembered meeting the author once to talk about her training and she had read one of them out of curiosity when they were released. She remembered feeling angered that he had used her name for the secretary that had a crush on the secret agent. Although she now saw the irony that both she and Bond had grown into the positions they had in the fictional series. 

“I remember them.”

“Well my best friend and I read them together and loved them.” A smile grew on Eve’s face as she pictured a young Q reading the books. “I know, I know. It sounds lame now when I say it out loud, but I read them and thought it would be wonderful to be a spy. We used to run around her house and especially her grandparent’s estate pretending to go on missions.”

“How old were you?”

“Early twenties. Shut up.” She had started to giggle now and Q glared. 

“Sorry, but I’m having too much fun picturing a younger version of you tripping over your long legs as you ran around with a stick for a gun.”

“Yes, I’ll admit, it was probably pretty funny. But I already had a career plan and I didn’t think it would ever happen so you can forgive the indulgences.”

“Right, so how does this relate?”

“It’s the reason I am only sharing this with you and not the rest of them, because I would never hear the end of it. But when we play acted, I was always the agent and she was Moneypenny. We just started to call each other James and Moneypenny in daily life. Bond hasn’t noticed yet, I don’t think, but sometimes I will catch myself starting to respond to the name James if someone who sounds like her calls out the name. And to me, Moneypenny will always refer to her. It was my special name for her.”

“And so calling me Eve is your way to keep that name special for her.” Q nodded. “That’s so sweet.”

“I knew you would understand. Thank you.” They shared a smile.

“Of course. Now let's see some of that wild dancing of yours again,” she challenged with a smile as the music changed. With a laugh, he spun her out and they were back to whirling and twirling and dancing like there was no tomorrow. 

  
  


After a few more wild dances, Q and Moneypenny collapsed into the booth and dove into their dinner. The non-dancers had been laughing about some of the crazy things the other agents had done in the last month. Bond was incredibly entertained by the agent who found out that not only does peeing on a jellyfish sting not help the sting, but it will also get you kicked off of the beach.

“He was not recruited from the Navy, was he?” Bond asked.

“No,” Tanner laughed. “Straight from university. More book smarts than street smarts. He probably won’t stay a field agent, no matter what grand ideas he has. No offense meant, Q.”

“None taken. I’m happier in the lab.” They  joked and traded more stories before leaving a couple hours later. As they were putting their coats and scarves back on, Bond noticed a face he recognised.

“Q,” the agent whispered. “Keep your head down. Old friends at ten o’clock.” Q obediently ducked his head and shifted so that Bond and M were blocking their sight of him. They made it out into the street without incident and split ways at the tube station. Tanner and Moneypenny continued part of the journey with Q but soon it was just him and some strangers in the train car.

Back at the restaurant, Bel was internally panicking. She had spotted Freddie immediately with his co workers on their way out. The man next to him must have pointed them out because she saw her husband shrink and slip behind his friends, out of direct line of sight. She remained slightly on edge through most of dinner, but if anyone had noticed, none commented. Only Hector mentioned that the tall blond might have been the person who saved him in Paris. 

When she returned home she found Freddie typing away at his computer, his feet up on the coffee table. He looked up and she could see the worry in his eyes. She hung up her coat and sat next to him. 

“No one noticed,” she reassured him and instantly felt the tension drain from his shoulders. “Hector may have recalled one of your co-workers from Paris, but that is all.”

“I can’t keep doing this much longer,” Q said. “We were doing so well for years, but I keep crossing paths somehow. I want to at least be able to tell them I’m alive. I don’t have to tell them everything, but just enough that I don’t have to feel like I need to constantly be looking over my shoulder whenever I go out to eat.”

“Talk to your boss. Maybe it would not have been possible five years ago, but from what I have gathered, you have become invaluable and maybe there would be more room for negotiation now. Like you said, they don’t need to know everything. Even just that you do work within the government that you can’t talk about might do. I don’t think they would press too much if they knew you were alive.” Q smiled at her.

“You are a genius, Moneypenny. How did I get so lucky?”

“Once you got your head out of that French girl’s arse, I believe we both got lucky,” she couldn’t resist ribbing him about that as she stood. He only scowled at her.

“I can’t believe you are never going to forget that,” He complained as he shut his computer and got up from the couch to follow her into the bedroom. “Even I forget about it unless you bring it up.”

“Well then, forget again and get in here!” she laughed impatiently. He had no witty comeback for that, so he just ran into the bedroom and executed a perfect flying leap onto the bed.


	24. Familiar Forms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which lips are loosened.

When Lix arrived at the office Wednesday morning, there was a handwritten letter waiting for her on her desk. Folded and sealed with wax. There was a very official looking stamp on it that read For Your Eyes Only. She narrowed her eyes, but got up and closed the door before she unsealed the paper. She thought she recognised the handwriting, but she couldn’t seem to remember whose it was. She began to read.

 

_ Dearest Lix, _

 

_ You have every right to be furious with me, but hear me out. I have lied to you. Indirectly, I suppose, but it is still a lie. For five years. And while I wish I could have told you the truth sooner, circumstances were out of my control, however I have been able to make a deal so that I wouldn’t have to keep up pretences.  _

_ There is really no good way to break the news to you, but here it goes. Freddie Lyon is not dead. I’m not, I promise. I can see you now, narrowing your eyes behind your spectacles and wondering if this is just a hoax. But I remember how you told me the story of the men hiding in the background of the war while you were in the thick of it, documenting everything you could. You challenged me to stop sulking and join you at The Hour even though you stole the position I wanted if I couldn’t be presenter. (Although in retrospect, I would not have been a good presenter. I was always too busy investigating.) _

_ So I can tell you now that I have gone beyond what even I ever expected of myself. I am not just documenting the war from the thick of it, but I am now one of the soldiers fighting to keep the peace. The work I do is secretive so I still won’t be able to tell you much of what I do, but I do feel better knowing that I don’t have to ‘play dead’.  _

_ I miss talking with you. _

 

_ Freddie _

 

_ P.S. Ask Bel any questions you have. I’d expect that there will be an impromptu meeting in her office around 10.00. _

 

Lix reread the letter and let out a deep breath. A smile had crept onto her face. “You little minx. I always knew you would go far.” She glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes until she got to go scold Bel for not telling her anything and applaud her for keeping this secret for five years. There was no way she hadn’t known this entire time. 

 

Sure enough, at ten on the dot, Bel’s office was full. Randall, Lix, Hector, Isaac, Sissy, and of course Bel were all behind the closed door and closed blinds. Bel had passed out drinks and they had been eagerly accepted. No one wanted to be the first person to speak, but it was Randall who broke the silence. 

“He was the mystery reporter at the press conference that we were all wondering about, wasn’t he?” Bel nodded.

“Of course,” Lix laughed. “He said he was from The Minute. I should have seen that for what it was sooner.”

“He said he couldn’t help it when I asked him if he was stupid,” Bel told them.

“So you still see him then?” Sissy asked.

“Not very often, but we do live together. Married in all the ways that count.” The girls awwed at that. 

“So you have known this whole time? All five years?” Isaac asked.

“Yeah. Sorry I couldn’t tell you. He lied to the government so that he would be able to tell me. Not that that was anything new for him, but still.”

“Can we see him?” Hector asked.

“Perhaps tomorrow night,” Bel said. “Are you all free around dinner hour?” Everyone indicated that they would be. She shot off a quick text to Freddie. It was hardly any time before he responded. “He says he thinks that will be an early night for him so he will meet us at home.”

  
  


Q paused outside his door. He was no longer sure if this was a good idea. Bel had told him everyone would be there. She had evidently refused to answer any of their questions, telling them all to save it for the evening and get back to work. He leaned back against the wall. They were going to bombard him with questions, with accusations. They would be mad at him for the lies he told, and furious for the lies he still must tell. And naturally they would know he was lying; they were journalists after all.

Really, the issue was when he stepped through the door, he would be Freddie again, not Q. Not the identity he had cultivated for the past five years. He had changed a lot. He didn’t want to be a disappointment to his old friends. They knew Freddie and he wasn’t sure he did. He was more of a leader, more of an enigma. He was used to having people follow his orders without question. More ruthless. Freddie had been shaken up for weeks after Kish’s death, yet now Q ordered and oversaw deaths almost every day.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. It was Bel.  _ I know you are just standing outside. Stop being a chicken and get in here. _ He started to type back, but she had already sent another.  _ You have nothing to worry about. XX Moneypenny PS Don’t make me drag you in by your tie. ;) _

Q couldn’t help but grin. Pushing himself off the wall, he squared his shoulders. The palm reader turned green and he gave the door a push.

 

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! Here is the end of my NaNoWriMo story. This was such a fun adventure to plan and to write. I dearly hope that you all have enjoyed reading it at least half as much as I did writing it.  
> Thank you again for leaving kudos and comments and sharing it with others. I love all of you for even clicking the link to read this story.  
> [My Tumblr](http://spiritofcamelot.tumblr.com/)


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